


On Days Like These...

by thebonezone



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Angst, Bara Sans (Undertale), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Female Protagonist, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Just not yet, M/M, Named Reader, POV Second Person, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Red has a thing for socks, SCANDELOUS!, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, We gotta write about all of that pesky drama first, We're going to make it to the bone zone, Well as much fluff as underfell will allow, and feelings!, but it'll get better!, everyone is having a bad time, will add more tags as they become relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-02 07:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebonezone/pseuds/thebonezone
Summary: Life in Ebott city has never been easy for you. It was a crappy town, and you lived and even crappier life within it. It's no surprise that you decide to head to Mt. Ebott, intent on ending your miserable life once and for all. However, what is a surprise is what you find there.Spoiler -- it sure as hell ain't wonderland. Also, you may have adopted a talking flower.You really should have just stayed in Ebott.(UNDERFELL UNIVERSE).





	1. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've finally decided to dip my toes into the world of Sans/Reader fanfiction. I have a soft spot for Red, so I decided to go for Underfell, and I hadn't seen too many fics where a Reader is in the underground with the other monsters, so I thought I'd take a stab at it. The reader is named in this fic, and does have a physical description which will come up. I'm sorry if this breaks the immersion for some of you, but it just feels more natural to me as a writer to write it this way.

“Get out of the way ya fucking bitch!”

 

You can’t help but smile as your ears are assaulted by that colorful bit of language. It wasn’t exactly uncommon in this city for people to be rude. In fact, it was pretty much the normal -- and it had been since the moment that you had been born. “Hello to you too, Mister,” you greet back, voice cheerful as you turn in the street, sticking up both of your middle fingers at the man. Truthfully, you were _kind_ of the one at fault for the man’s sour attitude. You hadn’t been paying attention to where you were walking, lost in your thoughts and blasting music into your ears as you had crossed the street.

 

Yeah, it had definitely been your fault. A closer look at where you were standing confirms that you hadn’t even crossed at the intersection. Still, rude was rude -- and you were determined to give it back just as much as you got it.

 

“Watch where yer fucking going! You got a death wish?” The man demands, pressing down on his horn loudly before he grips his wheel, driving around you, shouting obscenities all along the way. He doesn’t make it that much further ahead of you, however, stopped by the red light just as he pulls up to the corner. He swears again, louder this time, making you chuckle.

 

You give the man a playful wave and a salute as you walk past him, grinning as you hear him practically scream in fury.

 

You shove your hands into the pockets of your black hoodie, finally making it across the street. You touch your phone, turning up the volume of the music that was blaring from your headphones even further.

 

Death wish?

 

Perhaps, you did.

 

Though, it didn’t matter. Nothing would really matter in a few more hours.

 

After all -- it was a beautiful day outside today.

 

It was the kind of day that those obnoxious tampon commercials always filmed during -- when the people who were featured were always frolicking through a field of flowers or some shit despite bleeding from their twats. You can hear birds singing a soft, gentle melody when you turned down your music -- and you find yourself even stopping to admire the flowers on your way to what would be a one way trip to your destination.

 

It was a beautiful day outside.

 

It was the kind of day that even made the miserable city of Ebott seem like a picturesque, cute little town that people dreamed of visiting, and not the smog choked, overcrowded monstrosity that was filled with bitter, hate filled people.

 

Still, you had to admire that on a day like this, the sun was shining brightly -- and the sky was actually free from the dark cloud of pollution that seemed rather typical of Ebott.

 

The scenery only grew more beautiful the further that you got away from the city. You had always admired Mt. Ebott. It had always seemed like the one place to not be touched by the disgusting atmosphere of the city. It was a large mountain, bathed in green from the forest that surrounded the mountain. When you were younger, the room that you lived in at the foster home had overlooked the mountain, and you would often look out of the window, staring at that mountain until you fell asleep. For some reason, it had always been calming for you.

 

It seemed _fitting_ for you to go there now.

 

The one place that had brought you comfort as you grew -- would be the place where you went to rest for the rest of eternity. You almost laugh. That was some poetic shit -- you were sure that Abby would laugh her ass off if you told her that one. Well, maybe she would, if she didn’t clock you first for even saying something like that.

 

Well.

 

What Abby didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

 

That was what was so great about Ebott. Anyone who went missing up there was never found. At least, that was the case according to those urban legends that the bigger kids at the foster home sometimes told them to scare the shit out of them. It had never really worked on you -- but it was a helpful bit of information. The last thing you wanted was to be found.

 

Your phone vibrates, and when you look at it, you see that Abby’s sent you a text message. _Where r u???_

 

You don’t respond to her.

 

After all -- it really was a beautiful day outside.

 

And on days like these?

 

Girls like you really had nothing more to live for.

 

\--

 

_You’d never really been an optimistic person._

 

_That had more been Abby’s whole shtick. Then again, it wasn’t like optimism came all that easily when you lose both of your parents in a car crash during one of their many arguments before your eighth birthday. One second, your father had been turned away from the road, face a dark red as he screamed at your mother -- and the next, you hear that horrific crunch of metal on metal as that truck collided with the front of the car._

 

 _You didn’t remember much of the accident -- but fuck if you ever forgot the way that it had_ **_sounded._ ** _The sound of gnawing metal had a way of reverberating -- making every cell in your body screech. It was a sound that was felt even more than it was heard.  It kept you from ever learning how to drive. Just being in a car freaked you out, and so you avoided it like the plague._

 

_The doctors had called it a miracle that you had survived. A miracle. That was a funny way of referring to something like dumb luck. You seemed to have a lot of that. Dumb luck._

 

_You had dumb luck in truck loads._

 

_She’d been a whole ball of optimism from the moment that you had met her in your first foster home. You’d been about eight at the time. Your birthday had passed while you were still in the hospital. She had been a little younger than you when your designated foster mother had first introduced the both of you. “This is the new girl,” she then hesitated on your name. “What’s your name again?”_

 

_“Lia,” you had muttered. That wasn’t your full name -- but you had a feeling that this woman wouldn’t remember, anyway even if you told her. She had heard it earlier when the case worker had been talking to her. She just hadn’t cared to remember. “Right,” the woman said dismissively. “Abigail, show Lila to where she’s going to be sleeping,” and then -- she had left you alone with the other girl, slamming the door closed. You snorted quietly to yourself. Figured that she’d get your name wrong again._

 

_It was a small room._

 

_If it could even be called a room -- it was more like a box. Then again, this was more or less the norm in Ebott city. The only saving grace was that the room featured a fairly large window -- and outside of the window, pale blue light from the moon filtered in without anything to stop it. There were no curtains on this window, after all. That was going to be really annoying in the morning. “Hi!” The little girl said, snapping you from your thoughts. “I’m Abby!”_

 

_“I thought it was Abigail?”_

 

_“It is -- but I like Abby more,” she muttered. “Caroline doesn’t really listen when I tell her,” she says, moving to sit at a bed that was against the nearby wall. There was another bed near the window. It wasn’t done at all -- but there were sheets and a cover that were thrown carelessly over the top of it. You figured that it would be you job to fix that._

 

_“Doesn’t seem like she would,” you had commented. “She didn’t remember my name, either.”_

 

_Abby looked confused. “It’s not Lia?”_

 

_You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what it is. I like Lia better, anyway,” you said, wondering why you didn’t just tell the girl your name. Well -- your mother had always called you Lia -- and that’s what you preferred, anyway. Using that name seemed like a nice way to remember her._

 

_Right._

 

_She was dead._

 

_“O-Okay,” Abby had said. “Your bed is over by the window. Um -- it’s nice to meet you, Lia! I’m sure that you’ll like it here!”_

 

_You were sure that you wouldn’t -- but you didn’t tell her that._

 

_\--_

 

_Your life had always been a series of unfortunate events._

 

 _Your parents had always argued -- and then they had died. After that, you had been passed from foster home to foster home. There were always a reason why you couldn’t stay. Sometimes, it was because you were too quiet. Or because you were too angry -- or too loud -- or you got into too many fights with the other foster children. You were always too much of_ **_something._ ** _You were never enough. It had bothered you at first._

 

_How many nights had you gone to bed sobbing? Wondering why you were parents were dead? Wondering why you were still here?_

 

_A miracle._

 

_Dumb luck._

 

_You hadn’t wanted any of it. What good was luck if no one ever wanted you? What good was luck if everyone either died or left?_

 

_Abby had been the only consistent thing. Even after you had moved from home to home, you had always kept in contact with the girl. Well, it was more like she had forcibly kept in contact with you. She was always calling -- always texting._

 

_She asked you things -- like things about school. She talked to you about boys -- and girls. She seemed to actually care. You didn’t care about a lot of things, but you had cared about her. Even as you got old enough to move out on your own as soon as you turned 18, she was always around._

 

_She stopped by your apartment to bring you food._

 

_She made you clean your room._

 

_She reminded you not to take too many days off of the shitty supermarket job that you had gotten right out of high school._

 

_Maybe she was just afraid of being alone too -- but you still found yourself appreciating the little gestures._

 

_It was comforting to have someone around who valued your existence, even if the reasons may have been selfish. Abby often had trouble making friends too, just as you did. She was way too nice -- always bubbly and willing to help. It was a trait that people often wanted to take advantage of. At the very least, her personality kept her from being shifted around too much from family to family. She was the perfect doormat to the families who took her in. She did as she was told -- and not only did she do as she was told -- but she did it all with a bright smile. She said thank you fervently for whatever scraps of clothes they saw fit to give her and worked hard to be the “perfect” child._

 

_She stopped being shuffled around after her third house._

 

_And you?_

 

_Well, you never really stopped._

 

_Though, she was the type to keep up that behavior even in high school. She was about three years younger than you, so she was still attending when you had already graduated and moved out on your own. She came by your apartment almost everyday after school. Usually, it was to ask you for help with homework._

 

_“You’ve always been smarter than me at shit like this,” you comment dryly as you look over the calculus homework Abby had been assigned. She was quite the brain -- and had already been put into advanced placement classes. “I never took calc. Why would I know how to do this?”_

 

_“Because you’re better at math than me, Lia!” Abby had protested, annoyed. “You just don’t ever try! You could’ve taken these classes too!”_

 

 _You shrugged, “Well, I didn’t try and I didn’t take those classes -- so I don’t know how to do any of that,” you paused before offering the girl a sly grin. “I guess I just never put my_ **_backbone_ ** _into it, ya know?” Abby groaned, throwing a pillow at you._

 

_“I’m being serious.”_

 

_“Hi serious -- I’m Lia!” You dodged another one as Abby begins to huff before opening her textbook and getting started on her homework by herself. You were good at turning things into a joke. It was the perfect deflection tactic. Didn’t want to talk about your feelings to the therapist that the case worker had assigned you to after your parent’s death? Make jokes about the therapist’s ugly ass furniture. Didn’t want to get lectured by the principal for skipping class and failing? Tell him that you couldn’t make it to class because the date that you had with your bed was just too good to pass up._

 

_Didn’t want to give a fuck about how your new foster family couldn’t stand the sight of you? Just think that it was cool -- you couldn’t stand the sight of you, either!_

 

_Truthfully, you had always liked math. Before your parents had died, you’d even been placed in some gifted classes for the subject. It had come easily to you, and you’d always been able to keep up even after the accident. You just didn’t see the reason to apply yourself. “How’s school?” You asked._

 

_“It’s been great,” Abby said, not looking up from her notebook as she scribbled notes from her textbook. She was a focused one, that was for sure. “We’ve been reading The Great Gatsby for class!”_

 

_“Yeah?” You said,  plopping down on the couch beside her. She jumped slightly, seeming aware of how close you were to her. You saw her pull her sleeve down slightly, clearly covering a bruise on her wrist. “So I guess you didn’t get that bruise from school, then, huh?”_

 

_You had seen it when she had first come, too. It wasn’t new -- Abby always had a variety of different bruises. You just weren’t sure whether they came from school or her foster family. The sight is enough to piss you off, but you don’t mention it. You had offered to let her stay at your place more often. You had even offered to go and fuck up her foster parents for her. Abby had been firm in telling you not to get involved, even though you wanted nothing more than to slam your fist right into the teeth of her snot nosed foster mother. Mrs. Lorrette was definitely one of the scummiest women you had ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on, and you had seen a lot of shitty people in your life._

 

_“You know I’ll kill her, right?” You said, staring at a crack in the nearby wall. Your apartment was literally falling apart -- but it was all you could get on a salary that paid no more than minimum wage._

 

_“They’ll send me back if you do that,” she had stated -- and that had been that._

 

_Whether you liked to admit it or not -- Abby wasn’t you. She couldn’t stand being switched around from place to place, and she’d put up with all of the shit that she had to in order to keep that from happening. Even if the people who were caring for her were literally garbage. Even at 19, you were too young to take custody of a teenager. You could barely care for yourself, let alone another person._

 

_“Even so, she shouldn’t be knocking you around,” you grumbled. It was bullshit. But -- it was your lot in life, as well as Abby’s. Neither of you had parents, and so you were at the mercy of the system. Luckily for the both of you, the system was an absolute piece of shit. People claimed to care about the kids that were shuffled from home to home. Sometimes some of those kids even got lucky -- some of them got saddled with parents who actually gave a fuck about them. Some of them even got adopted._

 

_However -- that was few and in between._

 

_If you were too difficult -- too emotional -- or not the right color, none of that shit would happen for you._

 

_But, that’s Ebott City for you, right?_

 

_Abby shrugs. “At least she and her husband have decent jobs. Could be worse.”_

 

_That’s hilarious._

 

_You laugh. “Could be worse? What’s worse than getting slapped around?”_

 

_“Could be on the street,” Abby supplied, lips pulled into a thin scowl. “My ma  -- my real one. That’s all we had before I got taken from her. She couldn’t hold down a job. All she cared about were drugs,” she still hadn’t looked up from her book, though you could see a slight tremble in her hand as she gripped her pen. “Anything’s better than that.”_

 

_You weren’t really sure what to say to that._

 

_“I’ll be 18 soon,” Abby had said, “And then I’ll go to college. This is just temporary, so it’s fine,” and then she gives you a warm smile. “And I have you -- so it’s bearable.”_

 

_Oh shit. She meant that, didn’t she?_

 

 _You try to crush down the warmth rising in your heart, the affection. Caring about people was nothing but trouble, but it was hard not to care about Abby, especially when she said shit like that and meant it. “Yeah, I guess so,” you said, smirking as you ruffle her hair. “I’ll happily play the role of sister-_ **_bear_ ** _for you,” you laughed as she groaned at the joke._

 

_Then, she smile softened._

 

_“You are like my sister, huh?” She asked, and you can feel your heart leap to your throat. Well, shit._

 

_“I guess so,” you coughed, trying to cover up how itchy your throat had become. “You’re an annoying little sister, though,” you threw the pillow that she had thrown at you back at her, making her laugh._

 

_“Stop it, Lia!”_

 

_You’re quiet for a moment -- and then, you come to a decision. “Amelia,” You said._

 

_Abby blinked, “Huh?”_

 

_“My name -- you know, the one I was born with? It’s Amelia.”_

 

_Somehow, Abby’s little smile made you feel a bit better at clinging to the name that you hadn’t spoken in years. Well, if she trusted you enough to call you sister -- then this was the least that you could do for her, right?_

 

_You’d repay that trust, at least a little._

 

_She was a reason to be around, after all --_

 

_Until the day that she wasn’t._

 

_\--_

 

_“I’m going to college!” She had chirped as she spoke on the phone with you. Abby had been so excited. She had been studying hard, too. “I got into Brown! Can you believe it?”_

 

 _Brown. That was practically on the other side of the country. You had smiled into the receiver of the phone. Eyes squeezing shut. Your body shivered -- like you had just heard the_ **_crunch_ ** _of metal again._

 

_“You’re so smart -- of course you got in!” You forced yourself to keep the false cheer in your voice. No -- you were happy for Abby. She deserved this. It wasn’t her fault that you had never bothered applying for any colleges. It wasn’t her fault that you had never tried at much of anything. “I’m really happy for you!”_

 

_And you meant that._

 

 _You_ **_were_ ** _happy for her._

 

_Even if she was leaving -- Even if her leaving meant that there was nothing more for you in this  city. That was just fine. She deserved to be happy. You had always knew that she would be going to college and leaving. She hadn’t stopped talking about it since the moment that she had entered high school. You just didn’t think that it’d be so far away._

 

_“I’ll come visit every break,” you heard her say. She’s practically buzzing with excitement. If she were here with you, you knew that her her olive colored skin would probably be glowing. “And I’ll call you everyday! It’ll be like I never left!”_

 

_Yeah, of course it would be._

 

_“Sis?”_

 

_She had taken to calling you that ever since you had first told her your full name. You smiled, “Yeah? But you really don’t have to worry about me. I mean, shit! College! This is huge!” You find yourself speaking, even though it’s difficult for you even understand what you were saying. “I’m going to have to take you somewhere nice. How about we go to that stupid burger place you love?”_

 

_“Really?” Abby sounded ecstatic._

 

_And you?_

 

_Well, you kind of want to die._

 

 _That wasn’t a new feeling -- but the feeling of overwhelming fear, as though the floor had opened up beneath you? That_ **_was_ ** _new. That wasn’t something that you had felt since the moment you had seen the bright high beams of that truck hurtling straight towards you and your parents._

 

_Everyone went away in the end._

 

_There really were no exceptions. Though, you supposed that Abby leaving left an opportunity._

 

_If Abby left -- then there was nothing tying you down._

 

 _You couldn’t help but stare out of the cracked, dirty window in your apartment. The apartment sucked, but it at least gave you a decent view of the mountain that the city had been built around. You had always enjoyed staring at Mt Ebott. It was beautiful, and it had always seemed out of place, just like you were. It didn’t belong in this city -- it was too beautiful for that, the green splendor of it was a stark contrast to the ever oppressive grey that the city was filled with. As a child, you had often contemplating running away to that mountain. It felt as though you belonged there -- as though something were tugging at your core,_ **_calling._ ** _Even now, you can feel it calling to you, as it always had. Though, you had never followed through with the desire to answer that call. Though, things were different now. There was nothing here for you in Ebott anymore._

 

_It was a beautiful day outside, wasn’t it?_

 

_\--_

 

You find yourself standing at the top of the mountain after a trek that had taken _hours._ “Probably should’ve just learned to drive,” you mutter as you stand there, staring down into the apex of the mountain. There had been a cave at the top -- one that you had entered. It was pitch black inside, but with the light from your cell phone, it had been easy enough to navigate to the right edge of where the ground seemed to end. Faintly, you can hear the howling of wind -- as though it were somehow coming directly from the giant chasm.

 

Experimentally, you kneel down, feeling for a nearby rock of any kind. It doesn’t take you long to find a decently sized, smooth one. Carefully, you drop it over the edge.

 

You wait.

 

It’s not much of a surprise when you don’t hear it hit anything.

 

Damn. That must be quite a way down. You whistle, impressed at the sheer height at what you must’ve been standing on. It was probably so far up that you would die before you even hit the ground.

 

Well.

 

That suited you just fine.

 

Your phone rings this time. It was a call from Abby, but you reject the call.

 

It was better this way.

 

Speaking to her or sending her any kind of message would just worry her more. She was used to you ignoring her for weeks sometimes -- she wouldn’t think anything of this. She’d be able to go onto school and be happy.

 

And you?

 

You’d be able to do what you’d always wanted to do ---

 

You

 

Fell

 

D o w n.

 

\--

 

It’s only when you wake up later, surrounded by a bed of golden flowers that you realize that your dumb luck had somehow saved you once again.

 

“Fuck!”

 

\--

 

Abby had always considered you to be a fairly calm, rational person.

 

It wasn’t easy to rattle you. In fact, she had often tried to sneak up on you when you were both still living in the same foster home. Her attempts had never worked, and you had often teased her for her efforts. It wasn’t that you were never startled, it was more than, nothing came as a surprise to you. Anything could happen at any time -- and you constantly found yourself on edge. Nothing could sneak up on you because you were always ready for anything that could possibly go wrong.

 

Still, not much could have prepared you for surviving a fall down a tall, ominous mountain that people weren’t supposed to survive.

 

“This is bullshit,” you mutter as you stand up, looking yourself over. There wasn’t even a scratch on you! Even if you had somehow managed to survive, shouldn’t you at least be somewhat injured? Though, you didn’t think that you liked the idea of suffering down at the bottom of a large mountain with a bunch of shattered limbs. You had decided to jump because you had wanted a quick death. You weren’t a masochist, and you didn’t like the idea of suffering for hours on end before finally succumbing to you injuries.

 

Maybe you should just shut up and count your fucking blessings.

 

“How the fuck is this possible?” You wonder aloud,  finally taking an opportunity to look around. Your voice produces a slight echo, and only sparks your curiosity about where you landed. You were in a large cavern, though there was light filtering in from the opening of the cave that you had found when you had made it to the top. Light? It had been night when you had jumped -- so that must’ve been that you were unconscious for several hours. This light was a bright, almost blinding white. For a moment, you wondered if you were looking at heaven’s light.

 

You squint.

 

Was that the sun? You didn’t get a chance to get a good look at the cavern that you had entered, but it didn’t seem to be in a place to allow for much sunlight, but it had also been dark when you entered. Still, this light had an almost -- _magical_ quality to it. Strange.

 

Even while looking from down here you could tell that the drop from the top of the mountain must’ve been a massive one. There would be no making your way back up to the top. The climb alone would be too much, especially from how steep the surrounding walls looked. How had you managed to survive?

 

You sigh, and continue to survey your surroundings. Everything was a grim grey -- the walls seemed to be made of stone, not all like the dirt and gravel that you had expected. It was almost as if the cave had been hollowed out by someone. There were even torches that lined the walls, to your surprise. People were living here?

 

You weren’t sure how that was possible.

 

The golden flowers that surrounded seemed as though they were well taken care of. It was as though this were someone’s tiny garden. You feel a little guilty, especially since these flowers had broken your fall, though you noticed that they didn’t seem the slightest bit trampled on despite you having been laying on them for what was probably hours. The ground surrounding the bed of flowers was also made of stone, just like the walls.

 

Someone really was living here. That discovery is shocking enough to make you momentarily forget the reason that you were there in the first place. You almost don’t notice that the floor surrounding the flowers was stained a dark red, as though someone had spilled a large amount of juice of some sort. You kneel down again, touching it with your fingers. It’s still wet, and your fingers are stained just from touching the stone.

 

When you got a better look at yourself, you could see that your white shirt had also been dyed the same red color -- and your hair felt somewhat damp. When you touch the back of your head, were it felt the wettest, you notice that it’s red there, too. It was as though you had been _bleeding._

 

“But I’m not injured,” you murmur, confused.

 

 _Had I been?_ You wonder as you pat yourself over. No, despite you being more or less covered in the blood like liquid, you weren’t the slightest bit injured. Even if you had been, there was no way that you would have been able to heal that quickly. This wasn’t some weird video games where things like that were possible. Unless--

 

You were dead?

 

Disturbed by that thought, you decide not to dwell on that and instead choose to walk deeper into the cavern. The wall was a long one, but there was some kind of large, open doorway at the end of it that seemed to have even more of those strange, beautiful flowers that you had fallen on. The entire room was filled with them -- and unlike the stoned walkways and walls of the last hall, this room was more or less covered with grass.

 

“H-Howdy!” You hear a small, skittish sounding childlike voice that startles you from your thoughts. You look around, though you don’t see anyone else in the room with you. Your heart hammers and you release a nervous laugh. Right. No one else was here -- right?

 

“E-Excuse me?” The voice is louder this time, and this time you’re able to pinpoint the exact location of who was talking.

 

“Maybe I really am dead,” you say faintly, staring in slack jawed shock at a tiny flower at the center of the room. It was a golden flower, just like the others that you had passed, as well as the ones that filled this cavern. It had frayed petals, and a small, almost cartoon like face. There were two small, almost beady looking black eyes. It’s stem was hunched, and was ringing it’s two leaves, almost like a nervous person would with their hands. “I have to be if a flower is talking to me….”

 

It was either that or that fall had knocked something loose in your head --

 

“I- I’m really here!” The flower says quickly. “I-- I’m Flowey! Flowey the Flower!” it says, and that stutter really seemed to be permanent. “G-Golly. You’re new to the underground, aren’t you?”

 

Yeah.

 

You definitely had hit your head. Or you were fucking dead. Maybe you had succeeded after all?

 

“Succeeded in what?”

 

Fuck. You had said that out loud.

 

Instead of responding to what the flower had just said, you continue to stare, dumbstruck. Maybe -- you should just go with it? If you were really were dead, then maybe this was some kind of after life? Some kind of very strange afterlife. Though, something that the flower had said stuck out to you.

 

“We’re underground?”

 

“Yes!” The flower says. He sounds more confident, though he’s still looking at you with a wary expression. “Y-You p-probably don’t know how things work around here, do you?”

 

No, you definitely didn’t.

 

“So wait, this isn’t -- like heaven -- or hell, right?” You ask, trying desperately to pull from you knowledge of what you knew of religion. You’d never been much for it. You had always figured that if there was a God, then they were a massive prick. Life was shitty, and if something had the power to change that and instead chose to leave things the way that they were, then that thing was fucking terrible. You didn’t want anything to do with it. Heh. That logic had gotten you kicked out of one of your foster homes. The parents had been religious nuts, and you hadn’t been shy about telling them how you wanted god to shove it, if he existed.

 

Still, being underground -- and all of the blood that you had seen earlier left you wondering. What if you were in Hell? Or something like Hell?

 

The flower gives you a bemused look and it’s face was far more animated than you would imagine from a damn flower, but nothing was making sense anymore. Why should his face? One of his eyebrows raise. For a moment, you ponder on how a flower even had eyebrows, but then you’d have to think about how a flower had a face, or how it was _talking_ \--

 

“Well, I don’t know what any of _that_ is,” the flower says, and he looks away, it’s voice taking on a slightly snarky quality. Maybe he wasn’t just some stuttering waif then? “But you’re in the underground -- and if you’re going to survive, t-then you’re going to need to know some things…”

 

Survive?

 

“Is it dangerous here?” You asks, picking up of his word choice. The flower tenses, looking at you with a wilting expression.

 

“ _Very_ ,” the flower says, stressing the word as he looks around, as though he were afraid of something. “It’s very dangerous. T-That’s why I have to show you things w-work around here,” he says -- and then you gasp as you feel a sharp tug at your chest.

 

Color fades from the world around you, as the room around you is suddenly doused in black and white. You can feel your heart hammering, pulsing -- as a bright red light bursts in front of you. It’s bright -- as bright as the light from the top of the cavern had been, and your eyes hurt to even look at where the color was coming from. Though, as your eyes slowly begin to adjust, you catch sight at where the strange red light was coming from.

 

It was a tiny -- heart?

 

It looked just like the tiny hearts that lined stores during valentines’ day. Though the light emanating from the heart was bright, the color itself was a dull, almost sickly red color. The heart pulses as you stare.

 

Underneath the little heart were four boxed words.

 

**FIGHT -- ACT -- ITEM -- MERCY.**

 

You didn’t understand what any of that meant.

 

Even more confusing were the other words above your heart.

 

**AMELIA, LV 1 -- 20/20.  WITH NO LOVE FOR LIFE, SHE MIGHT AS WELL DIE ALREADY.**

 

_…What in the world…?_

 

The flower, also looks bewildered. “Why is your soul so dull?” he asks, as though caught off guard.

 

Something about his tone offends you. “I-Is there a problem with it?” You asks, annoyed, before his words seem to register.

 

Soul?!

 

The flower bristles, glaring at you -- well, at least, you _think_ that he’s glaring. “O-Of course it is! Souls aren’t supposed to be dull like this! It’s the culmination of your being!” He didn’t sound nearly as nervous now, strangely enough. Then, he takes a deep breath, as though trying to calm himself.

 

“This is bad,” he whispers, more to himself, than to you. It was beginning to tremble, his leaves coming up to cover his face. He even sounded like he was going to cry. Damn, this was just making you feel bad now. It was like making a kid cry, even though you weren’t sure what you had done. “I -- I, don’t think I’ll be able to do anything with this soul,” he whispers fervently, looking as though it might burst into tears at any second. “I won’t be able to do anything to stop her! This is just my luck!”

 

“ _What_ are you talking about?” You didn’t like being ignored -- and you liked it even less when you had no idea what the hell was even going on.

 

The flower just glares at you. “It doesn’t matter! Sooner or later, she’s going to come -- and then that’s going to be it for you,” he says, sounding rather hopeless. You take a step forward, trying to reach out for the little plant, but you only succeed in making the flower recoil, eyes flashing a bright red as it hisses at you. He had fangs. A fucking flower had fangs!

 

Where were you, anyway? A fucked up Wonderland?

 

You flinch, jerking your hand back. “Hey,” you say, trying to calm him. “I’m not going to hurt you--”

 

“You expect me to believe that?” Flowey demands, and now you can see tears at the corners of his small black eyes. He seemed really like he was alive. His voice was even trembling. “Everything wants to hurt everyone down here! That’s the way this world works! It’s **kill or be killed**!”

 

His words alarm you, making you grow tense. Kill or be killed? Your brow furls as your hand stills right in front of you. You had come here to die, but the thought of being murdered by whatever creatures were living here wasn’t exactly appealing. “W-Well,” you say, trying to control the fear in your voice.

 

“I’m not from here,” you say, “And I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“Then you’re an _idiot,”_ Flowey hisses -- and you release an embarrassing yelp, bracing your arms around yourself as small, white pellets burst from the small flower’s body. He’s still trembling, and breathing harshly, as though trying to calm himself. “It’s kill or be killed down here!” He seems to falter, drooping. “I- I’d be an idiot to pass up an opportunity like this! Y-Your soul is weird, but I might be able to -- I could still get out of here!”

 

What.

 

You didn’t know what he was talking about, but you could tell that those white pellets weren’t the slightest bit friendly. He was still glaring at you, but he hadn’t tried to attack you yet. It’s strange, but you didn’t feel afraid looking at this flower, even though he clearly meant you harm. You stare, swallowing your nerves as you take another step towards him.

 

“S-Stay back!” He wails, but you don’t stop -- not until you’re right in front of him. He hadn’t tried to throw those pellets at you at all, which you thought was a good sign. He didn’t seem scary at all, honestly.

 

He just seemed -- afraid.

 

And honestly? You knew what that was like.

 

You knew what it was like, wondering if someone bigger and stronger than you was going to hurt you. You knew what it was like to feel that helplessness -- and pretending to be stronger, meaner than you actually were.

 

Carefully, you bend down, pressing your hand to one of Flowey’s petals. He was radiating warmth, unlike any other flower that you had touched before. Then again, it was clear that he wasn’t a normal flower, was he? He grows still, looking at you with wide eyed disbelief. “Relax, shrimp,” you say, giving him a small smile. “I’m not going to hurt you. I meant that, okay? So can you put your weird little bullet things away.” You pull you hand back, resting them on your knees as you watch him seem to struggle with what to do next.

 

“W-Why?” He whispers, voice growing small. He seems to wilt them. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

 

Your heart wrenches. What kind of life was this tiny Flower leading that kindness seemed so foreign to him? _Maybe he’s not so different from me._

 

“There’s no reason why I am,” you say, “It’s just the right thing to do, you know?” At least, you had always wanted people to be kind to you -- like Abby had been when you had first met her. That kindness had helped you for awhile, and you didn’t mind having the opportunity to extend it to someone else, too.

 

He blinks at you, lips drawing down into a pout.

 

“You’re too nice to be here,” he says, voice sounding dry, then. “She’s going to eat you alive, you know?”

 

You flinch, “Wait -- someone’s going to eat me?” That was definitely concerning.

 

The flower sighs. “Not literally. But you’re definitely going to die with that attitude,” Flowey says, throwing you a frustrated look. The bullets surrounding him seem to disappear and he groans loudly. “I can’t kill someone soft like you! Why couldn’t you be a mean human?!” He demands, his leaves cross over his stem, as though they were arms.

 

You stare at him, wide eyed. He really was like a tiny person in a flower’s body. You cover your mouth, trying to hide your giggles. “I’m sorry that I’m not mean,” you say, before holding your hand out to the Flower. He looks at your hand, still dumb-struck as you smile.

 

“I’m Lia, by the way,” you say. “Nice to _leaf_ you!”

 

He stares.

 

And then he groans again -- loudly. “Are you serious?” He demands, glaring at you. His eyes take on that red quality again. So -- that happened when he was angry, it seemed. “I tell you that you’re going to die and you’re making jokes?!”

 

You shrug, “Might as well make the best of the situation,” you say, “Now are you going to shake my hand or what?” Flowey squints at you before he hesitantly takes your hand into one of his leaves. He had a strangely firm grip for a flower, as though he were stronger than he looked.

“You already know my name is Flowey.”

 

“Yeah, Flowey the flower, right?” You say teasingly. “I can’t say that I was expecting a Flower to _sprout_ in my way when I first came here,” you know that this is the last place to be making jokes, but you can’t help it. This little flower kind of reminded you of Abby -- and the stress of the day was definitely beginning to get to you. You can feel your heart stutter, still pounding from anxiety.

 

Flowey huffs as he pulls his leaf away. “Everything is terrible and you’re not taking it seriously,” he says, sounding as though he were growing more irritated. “She’s going to come here you know -- soon.”

 

“Who is _she?”_ You asks, standing to your full height. He had mentioned this person several times now, and you felt like you should at least be on the lookout for them. He grimaces, sighing at you.

 

“The caretaker of the ruins,” he says. “Trust me -- you don’t want to meet her, so you’re going to want to listen to me if you want to get out of here,” he looks at you with a critical eye. “You’re probably want to get some **LOVE** if you want to have any chance, though.”

 

“ **LOVE**?” You asks, confused.

 

“Yes, **LOVE.** It stands for **L** evel **o** f **V** iolenc **e,”** he tells you, and your nose wrinkles in distaste. That didn’t sound like something that you wanted at all. You didn’t really want to hurt anyone while you were here. Unless you had to, and even then, the thought of doing that left a sour taste in your mouth.

 

“That doesn’t even sound like a real thing,” you comment, making Flowey bristle and turn you you.

 

“It _is_ real, you idiot!” He screams. You almost laugh at how passionate he sounds, but you manage to hold yourself back. This was probably serious, wasn’t it? He was probably right. If this place was as dangerous as Flowey made it seem, then you’d have to keep your wits about you.

 

“And you need to start taking this seriously -- _Aaah!_ ”  the flower is cut off, releasing a pained cry as a blisteringly hot, purple flame suddenly slams right into the flower. It doesn’t burn to a crisp, but it does cry out in pain, screaming as it is hurtled right towards you.

 

You flinch as the flower slams into you. Despite it being nothing more than a flower, it had a weight to it. Even worse, the flower seems to slam right into the small, tiny dull red heart that floated in front of you.

 

You rasp -- that hurt like a bitch!

 

“What a terrible creature,” you hear a soft, almost silken voice say as you struggle to get your wits about you. You squint, looking at your soul. It seemed duller, and even more concerning was that the numbers had changed. Fuck, it was harder to breathe, too.

 

**AMELIA, LV 1, 5/20.**

 

“Torturing a small child like this! How awful!” You blink -- and it’s then that you see who had attacked Flowey. It was a tall goat like creature. Well, tall was putting it lightly. While you had fallen onto your rear when Flowey had hit you, you could tell that even if you were standing, you’d be tiny next to this...creature. You had never been the tallest of people, but it felt very much like you were facing a giant right now.  It had a feminine sounding voice, a a curvaceous, but muscular body. Perhaps she was a woman, then? Though, her body was covered in white fur. She seemed as though she were some kind of goat -- person?

 

A monster.

 

Then, those urban legends must have had some truth to them.

 

“H-He didn’t do anything to me,” you say, voice small as you clutch the tiny flower to your chest. Shit. He didn’t even stir. Was he okay. “He wasn’t torturing me at all,” you say, giving the goat monster an imploring look.

 

She seemed to hesitate as she knelt down beside you. This gives you an opportunity to get a better look at the massive woman. She had a goat like face, with a long snout. Her sclera were a bright yellow, while her iris were a piercing red. It actually seemed as though she had some kind of red eyeliner along the corners of her eyes, as well -- and small, blunted horns on the top of her head.

 

She looked terrifying, to put it bluntly.

 

She radiated power -- and you had a feeling that if she wanted to, she could make quick work of you, just as she had with Flowey.

 

Shit.

 

Monsters were real.

 

That was -- a little hard to wrap your head around.

 

“Is that so?” She asks, she looks down at the flower that you held in your arms with disgust. “Then it wasn’t trying to hurt you?”

 

“N-No!” You say, “Not at all -- h-he was just telling me about, how things worked in the underground,” you say quickly, trying to recall his words. You hold onto him tightly. He was still passed out, and it seemed as though, the goat monster’s attacks had ripped his roots right from the ground. That wasn’t promising at all. It may be a talking flower, but you didn’t want any harm to come to it.

 

The Goat woman doesn’t look the slightest big convinced, but she seem to take a step back. Then, she presses a large, pawed hand to your head. She was -- petting you? You feel a warmth flow through you, filling you insides and making you feel almost light and airy. All of the soreness in your body seems to evaporate.

 

**AMELIA, LV 1, 20/20. YOUR HP HAS BEEN MAXED OUT!**

 

_What in the world…?_

 

“Of course, of course,” she says quickly. “Then there is no cause for alarm is there?” She asks, giving you a smile that was warm, though you still felt something unsettling from it. “I am Toriel, my dear child,” she says softly. “I am the caretaker of these ruins. I pass through this place everyday to see if anyone has fallen down.” She runs her fingers through your hair gently, and you find yourself pulling away from her, uncomfortable.

 

You hold Flowey closer to you. “Y-Yeah?”

 

“Yes,” Toriel says brightly. “You are the first human to fall down in -- quite some time,” she squeezes her hands together, and you’re grateful that she’s finally stopped touching you. While you couldn’t find anything all that wrong with this woman, you weren’t used to such contact. Usually, anyone touching you did so with something _else_ in mind. _Don’t think about that._

 

Toriel seems -- excited. She smiles at you, touching your hair again before taking your smaller hand in her larger one. She pull you up into a standing position. “Come! I will guide you through the catacombs!” She says before casting a withering stare back at Flowey.

 

“Why don’t you leave _that_ behind?”

 

You look down at Flowey, still passed out in your arms. Something told you that this woman would do something awful to him if you set him down.

 

“I’d like to keep him with me,” you say, firmly. You feel something swell inside of you. Something strange. You weren’t used to feeling it, at all -- but you didn’t want anything to happen to this small flower. “If that’s alright.”

 

Toriel tenses, and then smiles again, though this time it seemed strained, especially when you tug your hand out of hers. “O-Of course, my child,” she says, keeping her voice warm, though something else seemed to be simmering underneath. “If that’s what you want.”

 

Something angry.

 

She sounded like one of your foster parents, trying to save face despite how furious they actually were at something that you had done.

 

You hold Flowey tighter.

 

“Follow me, young one,” Toriel says, beckoning you closer. She walks through another walk way, and for a moment you’re unsure if you should continue. Something told you that this monster was unhinged, but you weren’t sure what else to do. Even worse, you were certain that if you let go of Flowey, you’d never see the little flower again. You didn’t know if you should follow this woman -- hell, you didn’t even know where you were.

 

Even still --

 

You couldn’t just watch someone die in front of you.

Especially not someone who had tried to help you.

 

“Come along, young one -- we have much to discuss,” you hear Toriel call.

 

Taking a deep breath, you step forward.

 

You didn’t know what would come next, or what would happened, but you wanted protect the small flower in your arms, at least, even if you weren’t sure why.

 

This wasn’t a feeling that you were used to at all -- it was different from the emptiness that you typically felt, but it motivated you and kept you walking forward.

 

You were filled with **DETERMINATION.**


	2. Honestly, Hell Would Probably Be Nicer.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mother knows best, but your mother's dead and you weren't exactly eager to have that role filled by a violent, unstable goat like woman, regardless of how hard Toriel tries.
> 
> Also, a flower is depending on you to survive. So, there's that.

You don’t want to follow Toriel.

 

You had been around enough ill intentioned people to know when someone wasn’t to be trusted. Even if Flowey hadn’t warned you about her earlier, you know that you would’ve been put off by her. There was something almost sickeningly sweet in the way that carried herself, as though she were intentionally trying to make herself seem less threatening. You had known some people who did that in order to put others at ease if anything about them seemed frightening. They would usually be nervous and eager to please, but Toriel seemed almost entirely too aware of herself.

 

She didn’t seem nervous, no -- it was more like, she was biding her time. She casts quick glances at you as she walks ahead, also looking at the tiny, broken flower that you held tightly in your arms. She  _ really _ wanted you to get rid of him, but she makes no moves to take him from you, luckily. She probably could if she wanted to, and that thought was more than a little frightening. 

 

Toriel was just --  _ so _ much larger than you. 

 

Walking behind her, you could really get a look at her true size. It was clear that you only came up to her waist even while standing. She had to be over eight feet tall, and she stood with a tightly wound, rigid back as she walked, as though she were poised to strike at any second. Her black robe was ripped around frayed around her legs, and even through the fur, you could see the ripple of hard, taut muscle as she movies. Yeah, this woman could really do some damage if she wanted to. You didn’t like your chances at taking her in a fight, so you would need to play this smart.

 

_ Well, you did come here to die, _ that annoying little voice in your head snips.  _ It sounds like that should be an easy goal to accomplish here.  _

 

It would be.

 

Though --

 

You cast a worried glance at the flower in your arms. You felt somewhat obligated towards keeping this strange creature safe. You couldn’t do that if you were dead, and you certainly didn’t want to be at the mercy of the goat monster from hell. 

 

You were even having a hard time just matching her stride. Her legs were just so much longer than yours.Though, she stops periodically to allow you to catch up to her.

 

“Am I walking too quickly, my child?” She sounds worried as she stops walking, waiting for you to catch up. You’re careful about the distance that you place in between the both of you as you reach her location, but Toriel didn’t seem to understand -- or care much for personal space as she reaches towards you, touching your shoulder. She squeezes it in a gesture that you think was meant to be reassuring. It only made your skin crawl. You shrug her away carefully, and you don’t miss the way that her frown seems to deepen. Luckily, she makes no comment about your reaction. 

 

You had to get the fuck out of here.

 

“Um, it’s fine,” you say, not wanting to stand too close to her. You back away, grateful when she continues walking. She wants your trust, for some reason. While you were suspicious, you also knew that you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If she wanted to be nice to you, then that was fine. You just had to use it to your advantage, at least until you could figure out how to get away from her.

 

_ What if you  _ **_can’t?_ **

 

You shudder. 

 

That wasn’t something that you wanted to think about. When you had come to Ebott, the last thing you had anticipated was getting stuck in some kind of strange limbo, with monsters —  _ monsters _ of all things! You had wanted a quick and painless end, but you had inadvertently thrown yourself into an entirely different hell. 

 

There had always been rumors about monsters on Ebott. One of your older foster parents, an older woman had told you about the legend on one of the days where she had decided to be indulgent, telling you a bedtime story after beating you black and blue for accidentally  spilling juice on her couch.

 

_ “A long time ago, monsters walked the surface. They had powerful magic, and were creatures of great strength. Though, eventually that strength led to a war with humans — a war that they eventually lost. As punishment for losing, they were forced underground, never to be seen again.  _

 

She had said that the story had been around ever since she was a little girl, but you hadn’t been brave enough to ask how long ago that was. 

 

Though, if they had been trapped for that long of a time, it was clear that you were just as trapped as they were, as well. 

 

_ I never should have come to Mt Ebott.  _

 

Something deep within you had drawn you here, something that had been calling to you since you were a child. Even when you had fantasized about killing yourself -- it had always been Ebott. Now, it seems as though you were the subject of some sort of cosmic joke.

 

Darkly, you think that the punchline for that joke must be  _ killer.  _

 

It’s then that something catches your eye. You almost don’t see it at first -- but once you do, you wonder how you could’ve possible missed it. At the center of the room you were in was a small, glowing star. It’s glow was warm and bright -- almost like a tiny sun. You blink, looking around. Toriel walks past it as though she doesn’t even notice it, like it wasn’t even there. 

 

You feel a tugging in your chest.

 

It’s not unlike when Flowey had pulled your soul out, though it doesn’t burst free. It’s as though you’re being  _ led _ towards to small star. You probably shouldn’t touch it -- maybe it was something you weren’t supposed to acknowledge, but you can’t help but feel that Toriel would’ve mentioned it if were anything like that. What -- was it?

 

_ Closer, _ your soul whispers.

 

You obey, reaching out, touching the star faintly.

 

**SAVE?**

 

_ Yes. _

 

**AMELIA, LV 1, HP -- 20/20. WALKING THROUGH THE DESOLATE RUINS FILLS YOU WITH DETERMINATION.**

 

“This way!” Toriel’s voice calls to you from further along the corridor. It jolts you from your thoughts, as you blink. The star was gone, leaving you alone in the room with Flowey’s sleeping form. You touch your chest, shaken. The tugging was gone.

 

_ What was that? _

 

“Little one?” Toriel calls, and you shake yourself from your stupor, following after her through the walkway. You were starting to lose it, clearly, seeing things that weren’t even there.  _ Get it together, _ you think. You needed to be alert. You couldn’t afford to hallucinate -- not when there was a massive threat not even four feet away from you. _ Focus. _

 

Carefully, you step through another large, open doorway. When you step through it, you see that you’re in another stone walled room, though there were strange looking pressure plates on the floor. Was it some kind of trap? You weren’t sure, but you did know that you didn’t want to step anywhere near that, even though that seemed to be right where Toriel was leading you to.

 

Toriel stands in front of a large door towards the north of the room, smiling at you. “Welcome to your new home, innocent one,” she says, voice thick with warmth. You feel something inside of you chill, and you give her a weak smile. 

 

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, but Toriel continues to speak as though you hadn’t even spoken. “Allow me to educate you in the operation of the ruins,” she says briskly. “You’ll want to pay attention. The ruins can be quite dangerous if you don’t know how to solve these puzzles,” and there’s a clear warning in her words, putting you on high alert.

 

She was treating as though you were a child -- and making decisions for you without any input from you at all. You didn’t like it one bit. “I -- You can’t expect me to live here,” you protest, though your words die in your throat as her red eyes seem to bore into yours.  

 

She’s  _ angry.  _

 

Though, she smiles quickly, as though trying to mask her reaction. “You’ll die if your leave the ruins, my child,” she says chidingly. She’s scolding you, like you were some tantruming child. “You don’t understand what it’s like beyond these walls, do you?”

 

Flowey had more or less said the same thing, but you weren’t sure if you were any safer staying with this woman. Still, you think it would be best not to talk back to her so much. You still didn’t know what she was capable of. “You haven’t told me what’s out there, so no,” you snip at her. “I don’t.”

 

Toriel’s muzzle draws back just enough for you to see her teeth. They were sharp, razor sharp, in fact. It looked like you were looking into a mouth of a shark. Shit -- you’d really pissed her off. You flinch as she makes a gesture, as though beckoning you closer. You feel that same tug that you had earlier, when Flowey had forcibly drawn your soul out of your body as the color in the world fades once again.

 

“My poor, poor child,” Toriel says, voice dripping with saccharine kindness. “I’m only trying to help you, you know. You have no LV, and yet you behave so rudely. All of the monsters outside of the ruins would do  _ anything _ to have your soul. You understand  **that** , don’t you?” Like Flowey, you didn’t see a soul in front of her, but you what you did see was enough to make you freeze on the spot.

 

**TORIEL, LV 10,  HP -- 999/999, AT --99, DF -- 99, SHE ONLY WANTS WHAT’S BEST FOR YOU.**

 

There was no way that you could fight this woman.

 

It wasn’t often that you felt fear this paralyzing. Perhaps not since you were a child. You had known that Toriel was powerful, but seeing the quantification of her strength was enough to make you even smaller than you had before in her presence. “You see, don’t you?” She asks, keeping her voice soft. “All of the monsters outside of the ruins are at least as strong as me, or  _ worse. _ And you still wish to leave?” 

 

No. 

 

You supposed that you didn’t. 

 

Seemingly satisfied, you feel her push your soul back into your chest as color explodes all around you once again. “Would you like me to continue my explanation?”

 

You grit your teeth. “ _ Sure.” _

 

She smiles again, and it seems softer. “Good, now pay close attention please,” Toriel says as she walks near the pressure plates. There were six of them in all, and Toriel steps on two of the plates on the top, before moving to also step on two on the bottom. She’s careful not to trigger the plates on the middle before going back to the lever to the right of the door. She pulls on it, and you resist the urge to flinch as the door suddenly shoots open.

 

“The ruins are full of puzzles,” she explains. “Ancient fusions between diversions and doorkeys, one must solve them to move from room to room. Please adjust yourself to the sight of them,” she gestures towards a plaque that was on the left side of the door, prompting you to read it. 

 

_ “Only the fearless may proceed, _

_ Brave ones, foolish ones, _

_ Both walk not the middle road.” _

 

Despite your fear, you can’t help but be a little intrigued by the puzzle. It made sense, given what Toriel had done to solve it. So simple and yet -- 

 

“What happens if you get something wrong?” You ask, brow growing furled as you scrutinize the writing. Would all of the puzzles have clues like this? You hoped so, or you weren’t sure how well you would fare trying to get through. Toriel’s smile is serene as she warmly pats your head, you repress the urge to flinch as she kneels down in front of you, making direct eye contact. 

 

“You’d do well  **not** to get them wrong,” she says, “The puzzles are simple enough, but be sure to take your time with them if you’re confused, young one,” she seems pleased that you hadn’t try to jerk away from her this time. God, you fucking hated this. You had hated people giving you unwanted touches even before your parents had died. When your mother had made you hug relatives who you didn’t know, too, and you had fought tooth and nail  _ not _ too. 

 

She’s still smiling at you. Like this, she actually seemed softer, as though there were a gentle woman underneath her frightening appearance. Her eyes drift down to the flower in your arms, “Would you like me to heal him?” 

 

Her words actually make you jerk, this time. You hold Flowey tighter, not sure that you like the idea of letting her touch the flower that she so clearly hated. She sighs, ears drooping. Your reaction had clearly hurt her. “I mean no harm to it,” Toriel says, speaking in a gentle tone to you. 

 

You’re not convinced.

 

Though, you can’t deny that you’re tempted by her offer. Flowey hadn’t so much had stirred since Toriel’s earlier attack, and you were beginning to grow worried. There wasn’t anything that you could do -- and the older woman had proven earlier that she had the power to heal wounds. Though, if she thought to finish the job, there would be nothing that you could do.

 

You’d really be alone down here. 

 

She notices your reluctance, frown deepening. “I healed you earlier, did I not?”

 

“You did -- but you were also the one who put him in this state,” you protest weakly. You also hadn’t forgotten her show of strength earlier -- she had done that just to get you to comply and stop questioning her. You didn’t know what you’d do if you let her get her hands on the small flower in your arms. 

 

She wasn’t predictable.

 

You’re used to being able to read a person’s intentions. It was usually clear as day. People always wanted something. Some people wanted adoration, some wanted money, and some just wanted to control anyone unfortunate enough to be in their care. You’d learned that lesson early on. While you were sure that Toriel wanted to control you, her moments of gentle guidance were unnerving you. 

 

“I thought that he was hurting you,” she says imploringly, before pausing. “Though, I see now that this wasn’t the case. I misjudged him -- but this isn’t the first that he’s caused trouble in the ruins, either, young one,” she explains, talking to you in a calm and patient tone. “I just want you to see that I mean you no harm. Consider this an olive branch, if you will.”

 

An olive branch?

 

Your eyes narrow sharply. “Why?”

 

She doesn’t seem to have been anticipating that question. She tilts her head to the side, much like a small animal on the surface would. It was a strangely adorable gesture, despite how intimidating this woman could be, though, this was hardly the time to be thinking about that. You didn’t want to warm up to this woman. You decide to elaborate, “Why do you care so much about keeping me safe? You don’t even know me. I’m just some random human who fell down here,” you say, not understanding. Maybe she just wanted something to control.

 

Toriel’s eyes soften, “I would rather not have an innocent be hurt when I can do something to stop it,” she says. She pauses, before giving you an almost playful wink. “Especially, if it is in my  _ flower _ to do so!”

 

....

 

_ Did she just -- _

 

It takes you a few moments to realize that she’d just made a pun. You can’t help but gape at her, before loud, slightly hysterical laughter exploded out of you. You’re not sure if you’ve ever laughed this hard, but it’s not long before your sides are starting to hurt and you hunch over. You cover your mouth, trying to control the giggles. Fuck --  _ fuck _ \-- you were going to fucking lose it at this rate --

 

“Oh, my apologies,” Toriel says quickly, also giggling, “Did I tickle your  _ funny bone?” _ You laugh harder, tears in your eyes as you nearly fall to the ground from how hard you were laughing. It takes you a moment to calm as you gasp. You’re nearly delirious with a hysteric glee as you say, “Man, you’re really getting my  _ goat _ right now.”

 

You’re not expecting the delighted gasp that erupts from her. She clasps her hands together, grinning widely. 

 

“If I knew that this would have you  _ bleating _ in joy, then I would have started telling you puns from the moment you arrived!”

 

Oh god -- if she kept going, you might just choke on your own laughter. Your head was even starting to hurt.

 

“Okay -- okay --  _ stop,” _ while trying to get you bearings about you. The jokes really weren’t even all that funny, but at this moment, it was exactly what you needed.

 

You can feel yourself relaxing, somewhat, though you know that it’s a bad idea. 

 

You were just -- so  _ tired. _

 

So much had happened, and you were sure that it hadn’t even been a full hour since you had first woken up. You couldn’t wrap you head around any of it. You hadn’t even thought that you would still be alive now, and yet you still were. Somehow, that thought makes you feel a little better, though you don’t understand why. Living had never brought you much comfort before. Being alive had never made you feel much of anything.

 

And now -- you were overwhelmed by how  _ much _ you were feeling.

 

You look at Toriel, expression growing anxious as your lips twist into a grimace. “You… you promise not to hurt him?” You ask, still reluctant. You still didn’t trust her, but you also didn’t see any other real options towards helping Flowey.

 

The goat woman nods seriously, kneeling down onto her knees, then. Like this, she was on eye level with you. “I give you my word, my child. I do not wish for you to fear me. You will be here for --,” she hesitates, as though choosing her words, “--for some time. The ruins can be quite dangerous, but I don’t want your stay to be anymore perilous than it needs to be.” 

 

This woman was unhinged -- you knew that, but she also seemed to be genuine. If there were greater dangers out of the ruins, then the obvious choice would be to keep anyone who fell down the mountain here. You could understand her logic, even if you disapproved of her methods. Perhaps you could try talking to her? 

 

“O-Okay,” you find yourself saying. You weren’t sure if you were making a mistake or not, but it feels as though this is the correct choice. “I’m not letting go of him, though,” you say firmly.

 

Toriel seems amused, “Of course,” she says, reaching out and placing her hands on one of Flowey’s petals. You almost flinch from how large her hands are, but you force yourself to be still as you see Flowey become bathed in a warm, green glow. She seemed to be using the same magic that she had used on you. You could feel its warmth coursing through you as well, and it makes you feel relieved.

She hadn’t been lying. 

 

You release a breath that you didn’t even realize that you had been holding. You see Flowey begin to stir in your arms, his small black eyes beginning to flutter open.

 

“Wha…?” he questions, sounding disoriented as he looks up at you, and then to the large monster beside you. It only takes one look to have him screaming bloody murder. You wince -- the sound was enough to hurt your ears. You struggle to keep a grip on him as he begins to fight against you. “Hey! Hey! Relax! She’s healing you, okay! Calm down!”

 

He looks incredulous for a moment before he’s back to snarling. “If you think that she’s really trying to help me then you’re even more of a idiot then I thought you were,” he hisses at you, “Let me GO!” he releases a growl that startles you into dropping him to the ground. Toriel also allows him to fall, giving him an unimpressed look.

 

“Is all of this drama really necessary?” She asks, looking annoyed. “I bring you back from the edge of death, and this is the thanks that I receive,” she stands up, crossing her arms as her eyes narrow.

 

“Like I asked you to help me!” Flowey yells, though he’s beginning to shrink slightly. He’s shaking like a leaf in front of the massive woman, and you almost have to admire his nerve. Still, he wasn’t helping the situation at all. 

 

She doesn’t look nearly as gentle anymore. “Young one, I  _ told _ you this, did I not?” She sneers, and you watch as she begins to gather those strange purple flames back in her hands.

 

“ _ He’s nothing but a hateful little  _ **_weed.”_ **

 

Shit.

 

“W-Wait,” you protest, jumping in between the both of them. “Just relax -- both of you. He’s just scared -- and confused--”

 

“Ha!” Flowey gives a loud, bitter laugh. “ _ I’m _ confused! Me? You should be running for your life! Not making nice with this witch!” 

 

Toriel bristles at the use of that word, releasing a savage growl that shakes you to your core. Still, you stand your ground. This was the last thing that you needed, and you weren’t sure that you would be able to find a way to de-escalate the situation.  _ Stop thinking like that _ , you think to yourself, gritting your teeth.  _ She’s going to kill him if I don’t do something. _

 

Your heart pounds loudly. You can practically hear it as it pumps in your ribcage.

 

You were afraid.

 

\-- but you felt responsible for Flowey. 

 

Right now -- that was more important. 

 

“Toriel,” you say, keeping your voice firm. You hold your hand out, almost pulling it back before you shake your head as steady yourself. You knew that you couldn’t fight Toriel. That much was true, but there was something that you could do -- something that she had shown you during your brief time with her.

 

A weakness.

 

“I don’t want you to hurt Flowey,” you hardly even recognize your own voice as you speak. “I’ll -- I’ll --,” you struggle to think, but then it comes to you. It was simple, really. How had you not realized it sooner? The pieces to the puzzle were right in front of you.

 

It was just placing them together. When you did -- you could see the resolution. 

 

“I’ll do everything in my power to get away from you if you do.”

 

After all, you knew this fear well.

 

You didn’t want to be alone, either. Wasn’t that why you had come to Mt. Ebott in the first place? Loneliness could do awful things to a person -- twist them, as it clearly had the woman before you. 

 

You understood that feeling well. It was enough to make your heart ache for her. 

 

Though -- you don’t feel enough  _ not _ to use it to your advantage. 

 

Toriel grows stiff as a board, face going slack with what looked like pure terror. “N-No,” she whispers. “Y-You can’t. You only just got here,” her voice was growing faint. “I haven’t shown you nearly enough -- y-you  _ can’t.”  _ the pain in her voice is palpable. 

 

If you were a better person, you might’ve stopped there. 

 

\-- But you refused.

 

You’re  **determined.**

 

“Then --,” you swallow, voice thick, “You’re going to stop threatening him, okay? I want him with me, i-if I’m going to--,” it feels as though a lump of coal has taken up residence in your throat. 

“--Stay.”

 

You steal a glance at Flowey, hoping that he had calmed down somewhat. He’s just staring at you. There’s a mixture of bewilderment and awe in his eyes, as though he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. 

 

Toriel nods profusely. “Of course,” she says, voice panicked. She steps towards you, gripping both of your shoulders. Though, you’re not afraid when she touches you this time. No, you didn’t think that you had anything to fear from this woman at this moment -- as long as you stayed on your toes around her. “Of course, I’d never dream of making you unhappy, young one. I only want you to have a happy life here,” she speaks in an anxious rush.

 

“Okay,” you breathe deeply, reaching down to pick up Flowey. He doesn’t fight you this time, and instead winds his roots and stem around one of your arms. He wraps his leaves around your neck, perching on you like a pet would. It was a good thing that he was so malleable. “Thanks for calming down,” you whisper to him.

 

He gives you a blank stare, “This doesn’t change the fact that you’re still screwed,” he whispers back. “But maybe you’re less of an idiot than I thought you were.”

 

You smirk, “You’re saying I’m not a  _ numbskull? _ ” He rolls his eyes, “I’m not dignifying that with a response,” his lips twist as well. “But uh -- thanks for not leaving me -- or letting her kill me, I guess.”

 

“It’s the least I can do for my new _ peony _ pal,” you’re grinning now, and Flowey just groans and looks away from you, this time turning his attention back to Toriel. “That’s still a big problem,” he whispers to you.

 

You release a soft, nervous laugh. That was a huge understatement.

 

Toriel is watching the both of you, a hopeful expression on her face. “You -- you are happy now, yes?” She asks. 

 

You nod, “I’m -- I’m very happy, Toriel,” you murmur. “Thank you for not hurting him.”

 

“Yes, yes,” she says, voice warm. “In exchange, I expect you to keep your word, as well,” she speaks so sweetly, that you almost don’t notice the underlying threat in her words.

 

Your hands ball into fist. “I understand.”

 

“Good,” she laughs, this time turning to walk ahead of the both of you. “Allow me to show you more of your new home, my child.”

 

You’re more than grateful when she disappears ahead of you. “She’s not going to let me go, is she?” You ask the flower perched on your shoulder. He gives a low snort. 

 

“Nope.”

 

“Didn’t think so.”

 

“Eh,” Flowey gives a shrug, and it’s you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of a cartoon like flower making expressions and behaving like a person. Then again, you had basically signed away your freedom for this same flower. “You seem like a smart human. I mean, I didn’t expect you to live this long after meeting her. She must like you.”

 

“She doesn’t seem like she wants to kill me,” you say as you walk. You catch multiple piles of dust out of the corner of your eye as you walk. Strange. Why was there so much dust just sitting there? 

 

Flowey laughs unkindly, “Some of the other humans who came before you weren’t so lucky,” he says darkly. “And I’m serious about that. She may like you, but don’t let your guard down around her.”

 

You were unnerved by that. While something was clearly wrong with Toriel, she didn’t seem like the type kill the person that she was so focused on pleasing. At least, that wasn’t the impression that you got of her. Wouldn’t she have just taken you with her by force if she were really that much of a threat? “Why go through all of the effort of trying to make me happy if she could just tie me up and keep me if she really wanted to?”

 

You see something shift in Flowey’s expression. Something sad.

 

“Maybe… you remind her of someone. Your attitude, I mean,” he says evasively. 

 

That thought gives you pause as you walk. “A human?”

 

“Maybe,” he says, eyes shifting. You could tell that he didn’t want to talk about it, so you decide not to press him. For now. 

 

“In any case, I think your chances are better if you keep being a manipulative little creep,” he says, making you glare. “Hey! I mean that as a compliment -- I mean, that seems the best route to go if you don’t want to kill her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a human handle Toriel that well!”

 

Well, that gives you  _ some _ hope in getting out of this mess. 

 

“Has she taken others in before?” You ask, needing to know what to expect. Flowey nods. “Yep, some of them even stayed a few months -- then they either managed to get out or she killed them.”

 

That wasn’t… very promising. “Though those humans she usually took by force,” he says, “I’ve been watching for a long time. Um -- she… wasn't’ always like this,” he admits. “There was a time when she was the nicest monster around. She would try to save as many humans as she could, but they kept leaving.”

 

His expression grows somber, “I think it broke something in her.”

 

Hearing that makes guilt twist in your chest. It causes a memory to bloom, unbidden.  


 

_ “I’m never going to leave you!” Abby whispers as she climbs into bed with you in what feels like a lifetime ago, back when you were still children, still too young to understand why all of the adults around you seemed so cruel. “We’re sisters,” she says, squeezing your hand. You had believed her, too. _

 

Abandonment had broken her? Heh. You could relate. 

 

“Any other advice?” You ask as you both reach the next puzzle. Toriel is waiting for you, a patient smile on her face as she stands in front of what you could only assume was another puzzle. The next hall was covered with spikes, and seemed to be almost covered with dust.

 

“Yeah,” Flowey says grimly. “You  _ definitely _ don’t want to eat anything that she tries to give you.” He gives you a sidelong glance that seemed almost pitying.

 

_ “Trust me.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mommy Dearest ain't got nothing on Underfell Toriel.


	3. Stockholm Syndrome Sure is a Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She moved with excitement, but you don’t miss the way that she closes the door. You hear the audible click of a lock, and it occurs to you that you won’t be leaving anytime soon.

Toriel was definitely a hoverer.

After you had moved out from your last foster home, you had grown accustomed to your own space. You thrived off of your own independence, and you were unused to having anyone else nearby who wasn’t Abby. There had been a few short flings, but those had never lasted long -- and none of your foster parents had never wanted to spend much time with you. You’re unused to people hovering and it was  _ frustrating. _

 

When you had first followed Toriel home after her lengthy explanation on how to properly navigate the ruins, she had brought you to a small, but oddly cozy looking small house deeper in the ruins. Despite the dust littering the yard, the inside of the house was well taken care of. The furniture was kept in immaculate condition, and it seemed almost like one of those houses that you would find in a picturesque magazine despite the house being a dull grey. She had shown you to a room that was clearly meant for a child. It was brightly decorated -- and filled with a variety of toys. 

 

“This will be your new room,” Toriel says warmly. “I hope that it’s to your liking, young one -- though, if there’s anything that you would like changed, I would be happy to do so,” she was chattering happily, buzzing around in a way that made her grizzled maw seem warm and friendly. The red of her irises even seemed far more welcoming than they had been earlier that day. She almost didn’t seem dangerous like this.

 

Flowey watches her, an odd expression on his face.

 

You don’t get a chance to question him about it, however. “By the way,” Toriel says quickly, “Do you prefer butterscotch or cinnamon? I don’t think that I’ve gotten the opportunity to ask you yet?”

 

Her expression is so hopeful that it feels wrong to turn her down. Still, you remembered Flowey’s earlier warning. You can even feel his leaves tighten around you as she mentions it. “I’m, uh -- allergic,” you lie, “To both of those things.”

 

Toriel looks confused, so you are quick to elaborate. “When humans are really allergic to things, if they eat them, they can get really sick,” you explain, “Or die,” and her reaction is instantaneous. She looks horrified, paw coming to her mouth faintly.

 

“Oh my! That sounds awful,” she says, “I didn’t realize that something like that could happen to humans,” she taps her chin with her index finger, brow furrowed as she seemed to think out loud. “I suppose that I won’t be able to make butterscotch cinnamon pie, then.”

 

You resist the urge to groan.

 

That sounded delicious.

 

Flowey seems to catch the expression on your face and shakes his head fiercely. “Maybe we could try snail pie, then?” She sounds hopeful, but you make a face of genuine disgust, making Toriel sigh, shaking her head with an almost amused smile. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to think of something else to make you,” she remarks with a warm smile. She reaches towards you, ruffling your hair. This time, the action doesn’t leave you recoiling.

 

It was -- strange.   
  
It was like you couldn’t help but trust her, even though you knew it was smarter to be on your guard. The more time that you spent with her, the less that you felt the need or the desire to fear her. Of course, she was oddly invasive of your personal space, but she also seemed to take an interest in you, something that you weren’t used to. You were certainly used to being ignored, or outright abused in many cases -- but you weren’t often spoken to so kindly. Only Abby had done that, and she had been around your age.

 

Stil, you weren’t sure that she understood that you  _ weren’t _ a child.

 

“Um, Toriel,” you say, taking a seat on the bed to the far left of the room. It was a short bed, clearly meant for a child. You would need to sleep with your legs curled to your chest if you were ever going to get any rest in this place. As it stood, you felt tired enough to drop. “You know that I’m not a kid, right? I’m an adult,” you say, hoping that saying this wouldn’t hurt your odds of survival with her. Still, you didn’t think you could stand continuously being treated like you were five when you  _ weren’t.  _ It was just too weird to abide by.

 

She seems to freeze for a moment, and you wonder if you had made an awful mistake. 

 

Then, it’s as though her fur seems to redden, as though she were embarrassed. “M-My apologies, young one,” she says, touching her cheek, as though startled. “When you’re as old as I am -- it grows difficult to tell ages,” she admits. “Especially from humans. I -- I didn’t realize--”

 

Well, she didn’t seem angry. 

 

You smile, “It’s fine, Toriel.” 

 

She brightens, “I’m glad that you forgive me,” then she blinks. “Oh my! You still haven’t eaten, have you? I’ll have to figure out something to make -- something that’s not butterscotch cinnamon or snail pie,” she hums to himself, quickly buzzing out of the room. She moved with excitement, but you don’t miss the way that she closes the door. You hear the audible click of a lock, and it occurs to you that you won’t be leaving anytime soon. 

 

With Toriel gone, Flowey unwinds himself from your arm and shoulder, using his roots to anchor himself on the carpeted floor near your bed. He really was more like some kind of strange monster than a Flower. His roots behaved almost as though legs would, and he could use them to walk. 

 

“You shouldn’t get comfortable,” He says. He hadn’t spoken since he had first come to Toriel’s home. He’d been strangely pensive, as though he were lost in thought since the moment that he had first arrived here. “She’s probably planning something.” 

 

His words don’t bring you any comfort.

 

Sighing loudly, you bring your knees up your chest, wrapping your arms around them tightly. 

 

It was another reminder just how screwed you were. You had promised to stay with this woman in order to save the flower in front of you, but it also wasn’t a promise that you intended to keep at all. Though, with Toriel locking doors, you weren’t sure how much progress you could make on planning your escape. Despite Toriel’s tour of the ruins, you hadn’t seen anything that even resembled an exit. 

 

“Do you know how to get out of here?”

 

“Of course I do,” he sniffs, before casting you a withering look. “I’ve even been out of the ruins before. It’s just -- more dangerous out there.”

 

More dangerous that being around an eight foot tall goat woman who probably wanted to kill him? 

 

“At least it’s easier to get away from Toriel,” he says, reminding you that you had spoken out loud again. “She focuses most of her energy on the humans who fall down here. And the other monsters here are too scared she’ll kill them to come out be a nuisance for too long,” he leans on what must be his chin on what of his leaves as he speaks. “It’s hell out there.”

 

That didn’t sound promising.

 

“Does it even make sense to try to leave then?” You ask grimly. 

 

You didn’t like your chances of facing down with a whole host of monsters who wanted you dead. At least Toriel seemed to have a vested interest in keeping you alive.

 

The oddity of the situation is not lost on you, however. Your sole purpose in coming here had been to die -- though now, it felt as though everything within you were struggling to live. No -- your  _ soul _ was fighting to survive. You could feel it pulsing strongly within you, and somehow, you just knew that’s what it was. 

 

“You’re going to have to,” Flowey sighs. “While Toriel likes you -- she’s still Toriel, and eventually tending to you and doting on you isn’t going to be enough. She’s going to start thinking that you’re going to leave her -- and when that happens…,” he makes a slashing motion right underneath his petals, where his throat would be if he were human. 

 

“I can’t get away with not eating,” you remind him, “I won’t be able to do anything if I starve myself.”

 

Flowey quirks an eyebrow at you. “Aren’t you more clever than that?” He asks, lips raising into what seems like a snarky smirk. “Don’t tell me that I was wrong about you.”

 

You almost glare -- though, an idea hits you.

 

He’s right.

 

You  _ are _ more clever than that.

 

\--

 

Toriel comes back later, opening the door and letting you out. “Dinner is ready my child,” she smiles fondly at you. “Please follow me and I will bring you to the dining room,” she says, and you follow her stiffly. During the time that she had left you alone, you had found a small backpack, and had placed Flowey inside of it. It would at least make carrying him around much easier.

 

You take the backpack, bringing it with you to the table. You can see that Toriel didn’t approve, but she’s careful about voicing it.

 

In front of you was an elaborate spread. She had really gone all out, it seemed. There was meats of all kinds, though you didn’t recognize what they were made of -- freshly baked breads that were buttered and covered in a purplish looked jam. 

 

“Can you try a bite first?” You ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.

 

You do your best not to look at Toriel, though you can feel the shift in the atmosphere, as it changes from easy and relaxed to sharp and tense. You can scarcely even muster the courage to take a breathe as Toriel slowly sets the plate of vegetables that she had been holding in her hand down, eyes boring into you --  _ looking through you. _

 

_ Idiot,  _ you think to yourself. One look at Flowey confirms that he’s thinking the same thing, as he seems to be sweating, looking in between the large goat woman and you anxiously. His eyes seemed to say it all.  _ When I said to be clever, I didn’t mean get us killed! _

 

The tension doesn’t last much longer, though, and you release the breath that you had been holding when Toriel gives you a sad smile. “You truly don’t trust me, do you?” She asks, her voice wavers, as though she were on the verge of tears.

 

You’re not sure how to answer her. How could you? She hadn’t given you much reason to trust her -- and Flowey’s advice on her didn’t make you anymore willing to trust her. It would be stupid to let your guard down for even a second. Still, tears were better than anger and violence. You lick your lips, trying to gather your never before speaking.

 

You had to be clever.

 

And well, Abby had always said that you were smart, hadn’t she? 

 

“I don’t,” you admit quietly. You can feel Flowey’s eyes on you, and can hear him sputter in disbelief, but you continue, regardless. “But--,” you weren’t sure if this was the right course of action, but you also knew that you couldn’t just eat any of this after Flowey’s warning.

 

“I’m sure that if you eat some of this, I can start to trust you a little more, though,” you whisper. Your hands clench underneath the table that you were sitting that, hoping --  _ praying  _ that you hadn’t angered this powerful being. Toriel continues to stare at you, her eyes searching before they seem to soften, with a sigh. “As I said,” she says, picking up a fork and carefully taking a bite of each of the items that she had set out for you.

 

“I truly mean you no harm,” she says, swallowing each bite.

 

You find it hard to believe.

 

Was she -- actually telling the truth? 

 

You look at Flowey, but even he seems to be bewildered. He gave you a look that made you wonder if he thought that you had just performed magic.

 

You smile, “Thank you, Toriel,” you say, meaning it this time. 

 

Your stomach growls loudly. You can feel your cheeks flushed, embarrassed at the loud sound. “What the hell was that?” Flowey demands, eyes wide and stem stiff and he looks at your stomach. That sound seems to have alleviated the rest of the tension in the room as you can’t help but laugh, and neither can Toriel.

 

She seems amused. “I do remember some of the other humans I’ve cared for making the same sound when they were hungry,” she carefully scoops some of the items on a plate before setting it in front of you. “Please eat -- as you can see, there is nothing that has been done to taint the food.”

 

You feel as though you had just been scolded. 

 

Sheepishly, you take a bite.

 

It’s  _ delicious. _

 

\--

 

A week had already passed since you had first come to the ruins.

 

To say that it was the most difficult week of your life would be putting it  _ lightly _ . After meals, Toriel would always shepard you back into your room, urging you to rest. You had a hard time arguing with her, as she insisted that it was far too dangerous to wander around unsupervised, and even Flowey had agreed with her. 

 

_ “Hate to admit it, but you’re pretty much useless in a FIGHT unless you’re prepared to kill.” _

 

Instead, he had urged you to use the downtime that you had locked in your new bedroom to plan your escape. Still, even with planning, you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to get horribly stir crazy. 

 

You find yourself pacing, drawing, and even looking through the box of toys and children’s clothing in the room. You were doing anything that you could to pass the time, but nothing was enough. 

 

“This is getting ridiculous,” you complain, throwing a ball that you had found in the room against the opposite wall as you laid on your bed. “She -- she can’t just keep me locked up in here! I can’t stay in this room for the rest of my life!” 

 

Flowey snorts. He had also gotten in on the game, using one of his long leaves in order to bounce another ball on the floor. “She’s keeping such a close eye on you because the only way out of the ruins is through this house,” he explains. “She doesn’t want you to escape, so she’s making sure that doesn’t happen.”

 

You glare at him, “I promised her I wouldn’t leave.”

 

He rolls her eyes, “She’s not an idiot. Even she has an idea that you weren’t being entirely truthful. She’s going to make sure that you keep her promise.”

You frown. That promise was coming back to bite you in the ass. Still, you couldn’t regret it too much. You hadn’t had a choice, and you knew that it wouldn’t be easy at all. All of this alone time definitely wasn’t helping, either. It let your thoughts drift off to places that you would rather not think about.

 

Like Abby.

 

_ She probably knows that I’m missing by now. _

 

Or at the very least she knew that something was off. She was still at school, so it wasn’t like she could jus catch a flight home on a whim, but you knew that she was probably worried and blowing up your phone with text messages. Guilt stabs at your chest. You had figured that she would miss you -- but with you being dead, she would eventually just have to move on. 

 

But you weren’t dead.

 

And you had all of the time in the world to think about how  _ fucked up _ your actions truly were. 

 

_ Ugh. Don’t think about it. You have bigger fish to fry. _

 

_ I’m sorry, Abby. If I get out of here, I’m going to give you the biggest apology ever. _

 

“You said that the exit to the ruins was somewhere in this house,” you say, trying to distract yourself from those dark thoughts. Thinking about Abby made your chest ache too much. Flowey nods as he throws up his leaves. “Finally! I thought you were really trying to just stay here!”

 

“Didn’t you say it’s more dangerous out there?”

 

“Not if you manage to get some LOVE,” he whispers, lowering his voice. “It’s not going to be easy, though. Toriel is already at LV 10, and there’s not really enough monsters here for you to kill to even reach that amount. Toriel’s killed a lot of them -- as well as some of the humans who have fallen.”

 

You scowl, something inside of you curling in disgust at the idea of killing anything. “No.”

 

The little flower groans again, folding his leaves across his stem. He was really quite expressive. It’d be funny, if not for the fact that he was actively urging you kill creatures. “Then you’re going to die. The moment you try to run she’s going to kill you -- and I’m  _ not _ waiting around to be next when that happens!” He’s yelling now, and you jump out, pressing your hand to his mouth in order to silence him.

 

Even if she left you both alone in the bedroom, you had noticed the shadow of her feet underneath the door at night, standing there --  _ listening. _

 

You couldn’t even be sure if she were listening now, so you had both often tried to be quiet.

 

Flowey’s face reddens, and for a moment, you ponder how a flower could even do something like that as he says, “Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine,” you murmur, letting your hand up. “Just don’t lose your cool. Weren’t  _ you  _ the one who told me to be clever?” 

 

“I  _ did _ , but we can’t really do anything if we never get out, can we?”

 

“Then do you have any ideas? You want out too, don’t you?”

 

His lips press into a thin line. “I don’t just want out of the ruins,” he mutters.

 

That was one of the strangest things he had ever said. You squint at him, “What do you mean?”

 

“I want  _ out,” _ he repeats, meeting your eyes. “Of the underground.  _ Out.  _ It’s part of the reason that I wanted your soul to begin with,” he bounces the ball that he’s holding again, this time more sadly. “But then you had to ruin it by being nice. Thanks for that, by the way.”

 

“No problem,” you return his snark before you purse your lips. You couldn’t deny that you wanted out of this place, too. Everything was crappy -- and if the monsters outside were worse than Toriel, then you couldn’t imagine staying. 

 

You also had someone to get back to.

 

_ I need to apologize. _

 

“What if I can get us both out of here?”  

 

Flowey rolls his eyes, “And how are you going to do that if you don’t want to kill anything?”

 

You’re not sure how to answer that, honestly. You’re not even altogether sure why you’re so against killing anything. It was fair game if they wanted you dead, too, right? You shudder at the thought, clenching your fist as you thought. 

 

No -- you didn’t want to kill anything. Death made you feel sick. It made you think of the hi-beams of that large truck as it barrelled towards you and your parents in that small car. It made you think of the sick crunch of metal, and the thick, acrid smell of blood. It made you think of pain, the kind of pain that make you cry and gasp, writhe, though nothing could be done to make it stop. 

 

You clutch at your chest, trying to stifle the pain — but in your effort, you notice something flickers of something bright forming right before your eyes.

 

You can see the golden star again -- appearing right in front of you. It’s a small glimmer at first, blinking in and out of existence. It takes a moment before it’s suddenly bathed the room in a bright, golden light that almost burns your eyes with its brilliance. It’s like the sun had appeared right in front of you, it’s light beckoning you closer.  _ Come, _ it whispers.

 

No, you wouldn’t kill anyone.

 

You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you did. You knew that pain -- the pain of losing someone -- the pain of craving death. You didn’t think you could inflict that on anyone or anything else.

 

You reach forward, palming the light in your hand and --

 

**SAVE.**

 

**AMELIA, LV 1, HP -- 20/20, THINKING OF YOUR PLEDGE NOT TO KILL FILLS YOU WITH DETERMINATION.**

 

The star seems to disappear just as quickly as it had appeared, leaving you confused. You hadn’t thought much of the first star that you had encountered, back at the start of the ruins, but now it’s as though the memory is flooding back to you.

 

You hadn’t even noticed Flowey staring, eyes locked right at the place where the star had been.

 

You blink.

 

“Did you see it too?”

 

He nods, and then smiles. “Actually, this is a good thing,” he murmurs, before muttering to himself. “I was wondering why I couldn’t do it anymore--”

 

You frown, “Do what?”

 

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. This just means that we might actually have a chance of getting out of here!” He seems far more chipper, though he doesn’t elaborate on what he means.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Don’t worry,” his grin widens, “You’ll understand when you need to know.”

 

\--

 

Flowey had been rather tight lipped about his meaning, but he had been firm that you should touch those stars whenever they appeared. 

 

“You’re not going to tell me why?” You ask, annoyed. You hated being kept in the dark about things. 

 

Flowey shrugged, “You wouldn’t believe me. Trust me, it’s just one of those things you need to experience - but for your sake, let’s hope that you don’t. Even if you come back, it’s still unpleasant.”

 

_ “What?” _

 

“Don’t worry about it. If we’re lucky you won’t need to know,” he says dismissively.  You weren’t able to get much out of him about the nature of those odd stars, so you eventually just give up, waiting for dinner time. Toriel would let you out to eat soon. “I thought that you wanted to get out of here,” you say in agitation. “Hiding important information from me is exactly how you ensure that we don’t get out,” you hiss. 

 

Flowey gives you a piercing stare. “Would you believe me if I told you that those golden stars will reset time if you die?”

 

You burst out laughing.

 

“Be serious.”

 

He shrugs, then, “See? I told you that you wouldn’t believe me!”

 

Wait -- he was -- serious?

 

_ No fucking way. _

 

You don’t get another chance to question him, though as the door opens, revealing Toriel. “Dinner time,” she chirps, happily. You grumble as you stand, letting Flowey latch himself onto you. “Don’t think I’m done asking about this yet,” you whisper fiercely. He doesn’t say anything, staring ahead and you decide to drop it for now. You didn’t really have a choice.

 

You follow dutifully behind her, just as you had done for what was now close to two weeks. As always, she had prepared what appeared to be enough food for an entire family. You weren’t sure why she went through all of this trouble. It was only you and her, and Flowey didn’t eat anything. 

 

“It’s delicious, Toriel,” you say as you take a bite of what you had come to understand was water sausage. It had an almost sweet taste to it, despite resembling something similar to the sausage you often ate on the surface. It wasn’t savory at all. She beams, blushing brightly with pleasure. “I’d be happy to make you more,” she says, clearly excited. “I’m  _ loaf _ to admit it, but I really do love cooking,” and she releases a bout of laughter that you force yourself to join in on. 

 

Toriel did love her puns. She often joked like this during your meals. You hadn’t reciprocated much since your first day with her, still too anxious to even be able to come up with any. You watch her carefully. She seemed to be in a good mood today; maybe you could use it to your advantage?

 

“You know,” you say, picking your words carefully, “As much as I love my bedroom and the dining room, I think I need a more  _ steamulating _ environment,” you speak very slowly, watching her reaction for any sign of angering her. “Could you  _ fry _ it in your heart to let me out of the house for a bit?”

 

She’s not smiling anymore.

 

In fact, she had stopped smiling the moment that you had made the first very pun about leaving. You can tell that Flowey is holding his breath beside you as you both wait. The silence seems to stretch on and on, to the point that the awkwardness makes you stare down at your hand. Your grip tightens on the fork in your hand, and you find yourself wondering if you could use it as a weapon if need be.

 

_ Like that’s going to do anything against fire balls _ , you scold yourself. You can feel a trickle of sweat slide down your temple as you wait. “Toriel,” you whisper, “Please. I can’t stay in a room forever.”

 

Toriel’s brows knit together, and she folds her hands together as she speaks in a clear, even tone, “It’s for your safety--”

 

“Then teach me how to protect myself,” you snap, “Or come with me yourself -- but you can’t keep locking me up, Toriel. You can’t expect me to be happy like this!” You slam your hands down on the table, releasing some of the frustration that you had been feeling building up inside of you for the past two weeks of isolation. 

 

It seems that you had said the magic words, then -- as you see Toriel’s ears droop. Her shoulders shrink down, head bowed. She sniffles, shoulders trembling and you’re filled with discomfort as you watch this older woman cry. God, you hated her tears. You hated how guilty they made you feel, despite the fact that this woman was essentially holding you hostage. “Please,” she begs. “Amelia,  _ please, _ ” she reaches across the table, holding your small hands in her large ones as she pins you with an imploring look. 

 

“It’s so dangerous -- you don’t understand how much the monsters down here crave a human soul,” she says, squeezing your hands. It was beginning to hurt. You wince, trying to pull them away from her. 

 

“Toriel--”

 

“They’ll kill you -- and then I’ll be all alone again!” She’s all but screaming now, squeezing so hard that you were beginning to lose feeling in your hands as her large paws cut off your circulation. You bite back a cry, and you’re startled when Flowey’s leaves shoot out, wrapping around Toriel’s wrists and wrenching them from you.

 

The older monster seems just as shocked.

 

“You’re hurting her,” Flowey growls, eyes a dark red and fangs bared. He gives the other woman a hard glare as she seems to slowly calm herself.

 

“My apologies,” she whispers as her eyes find yours again. She looks down at you wrists, as though heartbroken at the bright red marks that stood out starkly across your chestnut colored skin. “I -- I did not mean to hurt you -- but the danger is serious, Amelia.”

 

“I understand that, but I can’t do this. I can’t be locked up, Toriel. I can’t--,” your voice cracks. “I can’t live like this.”

 

There’s quiet, then, and you shift uncomfortably as Toriel’s eyes seem to penetrate you. 

 

Then, she speaks.

 

“Fine,” she whispers. “On two conditions.”

 

You perk up at that -- and even Flowey seems surprised. 

 

“You will let me show you how to FIGHT,” she says firmly, then, her voice drops, “And you will, never, EVER, go into the basement of this house.”

 

The basement. That’s where Flowey had said the exit was. You can’t be too surprised that this was one of her conditions, after all.

 

“Okay!”

 

It wasn’t like that was a promise that you intended to keep, anyway. 

 

\--

 

It’s not until the following day, when Toriel allows you and Flowey out into the front of the house. You feel happy enough to dance as your feet finally touch the outside of the house. Even though a lot of the ground was covered by that strange, almost grey dust, it was the first time that you had seen beyond the dining room of Toriel’s home in roughly two weeks. You feel joyful enough to frolic through the bright red leaves that had been raked neatly near the front of her home, as though you were a child. Even Flowey seemed to be in a better mood as he grasped the front of the backpack that you had placed him in, looking around. 

 

“It’s quiet,” he murmurs.

 

His words make you snort, “Isn’t it always?” You had never even seen the other monsters he and Toriel frequently spoke of. It seemed as though everything that lived here wanted to stay as far away from Toriel as possible. Not that you could blame them. 

 

“You only say that because you’ve never been in the ruins without Toriel,” he says. “Wonder if she’s finally killed everything down here?”

 

“Has she been doing that?”

 

Flowey snorts, “Where do you think the dust piles came from? Toriel likes cleaning house -- killing a lot of the monsters she comes across so that they don’t kill any humans who come by. I guess she only likes that honor to go to her,” he says darkly. A tremor goes through you from his words. He had never been shy about telling you about Toriel’s darker nature, even though it was hard for you to imagine her killing the humans who fell down. She was unhinged, but she seemed genuine in her desire to keep you safe. “Is she really like that?”  

 

His face darkens, “Don’t tell me you’re starting to sympathize with her?”

 

You blanch, “Of course not...I just don’t get why she would go through all of this trouble, just to kill the person that she’s trying to protect in the end.”

 

“Does anything that crazy people do make any sense?” He snarks back at you. “Look, don’t get soft on her. You’re going to regret it if you do.”

 

That would be impossible. This woman was holding you captive -- and your freedom hinged upon her whims as she attempted to force you play the role of her child. Though, you couldn’t deny that you empathized with her loneliness.  It was even a little nice to have someone care about you so fiercely, but that was definitely your fucked up childhood rearing its ugly head. The longer that you stayed with her, the more the strange monster woman began to endear herself to you, even despite the wrongness of the situation you were in. You knew that she was a murderer -- and you knew that she was holding you against your will, but it was still difficult to hate her.

 

Maybe it -- wasn’t so impossible, after all. That thought unnerves you.

 

Had you learned nothing from the past? It didn’t matter if someone was nice sometimes -- or if they were funny. If they hurt you intentionally, then none of that was supposed to matter. You had thought that you were stronger than this.

 

_ Strong? You have to be kidding. Didn’t you try to kill yourself because you couldn’t stand the idea of Abby leaving you alone?  _ **_You’re weak._ **

 

“Come with me, my child,” Toriel says as she emerges from the house, walking ahead of you. You obey, walking behind you as she leads you away from her tiny home and deeper into the ruins. You aren’t walking for long before you come to an empty, dull grey room. It was dark, only lit dimly by the faint light of a torch that flickered from the far corner of the room. Inside, you’re able to make out a squirming, tan burlap sack.

 

You stop at the doorway. 

 

“Toriel--”

 

The darkness of the room casts her face in dark shadows. The flickering of the nearby fire gives her expression a haunting look as she stands in front of the writhing sack. You didn’t want to go into that room. Not one bit. 

 

“Shit,” Flowey whispers.

 

Toriel is not the slightest bit moved by your hesitation. “Amelia. Come here,” and her voice leaves no room for discussion. You weren’t sure how you knew, but something told you that wouldn’t be able to talk your way out of whatever she had planned and you weren’t exactly thrilled at finding out what it was. Your eyes dart around. You could try to run.

 

_ She’ll catch you, idiot. _

 

“What’s in the bag?” You ask, trying to keep your voice from trembling.

 

She chuckles then, and the sound of it leaves you feeling chilled. Flowey’s leaves tighten on your shoulders, gripping so hard that it almost hurt. He was afraid, too. He probably knew something that you didn’t. “Don’t go in there,” he urges in a frantic whisper. 

 

“Come inside,” Toriel says firmly. “No harm shall come to you, my child. I am simply holding you to your promise. You did say that you would let me teach you to defend yourself, yes?” You weren’t sure what that had to do with this. Your eyes travel back to the bag -- it had fallen over, whatever was inside was fighting in earnest now. No, you didn’t like this at all. When you had agreed to her conditions, this wasn’t what you had imagined at all when she told you that she’d teach you to fight.

 

There was something  _ inside _ of that bag.

 

“I -- I did, but--,”

 

“Then, what’s the problem?” Toriel asks. Her voice sounds nonchalant -- almost pleasant, but it did nothing to settle your pounding heart. “Unless… you were  **lying to me** ?”

 

It feels as though the temperature has dropped several degrees, as though all of the air had been sucked out. She’s staring at you, eyes searching for even a hint of your true intentions. It takes everything inside of you not to tremble. It takes everything not to run away screaming. Something told you that if you answered incorrectly, it would be the last thing that you ever did.

 

_ Think! _

 

“I wasn’t lying,” you say, shakily taking a step forward into the dark room. “What are you doing?” Flowey hisses into you ear. You didn’t know. You didn’t know what you were doing, but not listening to this woman would mean certain death. 

 

Toriel seems pleased with your choice.

 

“Thank goodness,” she places a large paw over her chest. “I’m glad that you’re a woman of your word,” she sounds relieved. Your eyes were adjusting to the dark and you could see the warmth in her eyes as she looked down at you. She pets your head, as if to reward you for listening to her. Like you were a fucking pet. “Good girl. You’re  _ very _ good, aren’t you? And smart…” 

 

Her voice had an almost silken quality to it -- you want to recoil from her, but you force yourself not to move. A realization strikes you, then. She knew  _ exactly  _ what kind of hold she had on you. You weren’t nearly as cunning as you thought you had been.

 

You nod hollowly, watching as she smiles and goes to remove the sac from the monster that been inside of it. It’s a giant green frog, though it had been tied up and gagged, so it was unable to make any sounds aside from muffled croaks of fear. It looked between you and Toriel, terrified as it tried to scramble away from the both of you. Though, it was unable to get very far, as Toriel easily caught the end of the rope keeping the creature bound and tugged it back towards the both of you.

 

It falls onto its face -- hard. 

“FIGHTS are very simple affairs once you know what to do, my child,” she speaks, though it’s hard to even understand what she as saying. You’re still staring at the frog in front of you, when it looks up, tears in its eyes. It can’t speak, but you don’t need to speak to it to know what it’s trying to say to you.

 

_ Help me. _

 

“T-Toriel,” you whisper, “I -- this isn’t what I had in mind -- when I asked you to teach me to survive down here,” you hoped that she would hear you, that she would stop all of this, but she makes no movements to untie the struggling frog. 

 

“Then what did you have in mind?” She questions, giving you a disappointed look. “Foolish child. I’m only trying to protect you. Don’t you understand,” the stare that she gives you is withering and cold. 

 

“It’s  **kill or be killed** down here.”

 

Flowey had said the same thing when you had first encountered him.

 

Still, it wasn’t something that you could accept. “I don’t want to kill anything,” you say.

 

Toriel laughs, “Do you think that he would do the same for you, if given the opportunity?” her eyes narrow as she stares down at the bound frog. “No. He wouldn’t. It would kill you. They’ve all done it before -- killed humans who have fallen here. You must strike first if you want to survive.”

 

No.

 

This isn’t what you wanted.

 

“I can’t kill it,” you shake your head. “I won’t -- you can’t force me to kill something, Toriel.”

 

“Can’t I?” She asks, sounding disappointed. 

 

No one moves -- you can’t even breathe as you count every long, agonizing second that passes. Flowey was also deathly quiet, clinging to you hard from fear. “That is quite a shame,” she says as she conjures a large, bright fireball. The room is dyed purple from the brightness of it. The frog begins to shake, trying to run once more.

 

“It’s quite simple, actually,” she says, eyes hardening as she looks down at the terrified creature. “Taking a life is a simple endeavour once you’re used to it,” she explains patiently. “My dear child, after awhile, you won’t feel _ anything _ at all.”

 

She sends the ball of scorching hot flames right towards the small creature -- and it’s as though time slows as you watch, horrified as the flames engulf it. Even through the gag you can hear it scream, loud and painful as it’s incinerated. It doesn’t take long, which was the only merciful part of the entire ordeal.

 

It burns and burns --

 

\-- until there’s nothing left but  _ dust. _

 

Your knees feel weak, buckling as you slide to the ground, staring at the pile that had once been the cowering frog. 

 

So,  _ that’s  _ what those dust piles had been.

 

You choke down the urge to vomit, bile rising in your throat. 

 

“Why?”

 

It’s the only thing that you can think to ask. You didn’t understand any of this. Why had she made you witness this? Why was she  _ killing _ all of these creatures? It hadn’t even tried to attack her, and yet she had tied it up and killed it without a second thought. It couldn’t even fight back had it wanted to. 

 

Toriel sighs. 

 

When she looks at you, it’s with a look of pity. “My poor child,” she says softly. She strokes your hair, and you desperately want to tell her to fuck off. 

 

“You’re not ready.”

 

You’re sent back to that small, cramped room after that. The toys scattered across the floor seemed as though they were mocking you -- a reminder of your captivity. 

 

You don’t ask about leaving, after that. No. If you were going to get out of here, it wouldn’t be through Toriel. It couldn’t be through her mercy.

 

She had  **none.**

 

\--

 

“I told you not to trust her.” 

 

It was the first thing Flowey had said since you had returned to your room. You lie on your side, facing the wall and with your legs curled into your chest. You weren’t sure how much time had passed since you had first come back. “No matter how nice she seems. She wants you all for herself. You can only manipulate her so far -- and you’ve already done more than I even thought was possible.”

 

“You don’t think I know that now?” You ask, voice cracking as horror swelled in your throat. The image of that burning frog was seared into your mind. There had been fire in the car crash, too.  It kept replaying over and over and  _ over _ \--

 

“So what are you going to do about it?” 

 

What _ were _ you going to do?

 

You weren’t sure. You had thought that earning Toriel’s trust would be the best way out of here, but you couldn’t do that if doing so meant killing tied up and defenseless creatures. Still, you did know one thing. You couldn’t stay here. In fact, you were determined to get out. You could see why Flowey wanted out. If the outside were even worse than the ruins than this place was surely hell.

 

You laugh bitterly.

 

Maybe you were dead.

 

Though, if you were, that didn’t mean that you could just give up.

 

You stand up, walking over to the box of clothing. You had thought of this when you had first come here, but Toriel’s constant presence had made you wary of even attempting it. Now, you realized you would have no choice but to risk this. You couldn’t stay here. It was only a matter of time before Toriel tried something like that again. 

 

“You -- you said that the golden stars had something to do with time?” You ask, remembering your previous conversation as you siphon through the clothing. You see the two bright red hair pins at the bottom of the chest. You pick them up, manipulating one of them into an L shape, and bending the other one so that it was open wide. Flowey moves towards the chest, watching you curiously. 

 

“They do,” he says, lowering his voice. “You’ve SAVED, right?”

 

Saved?

 

You think you know what he means.

 

“Yeah, I did,” you say as you finish bending both of the pins, you shove them into your pockets. “In the bedroom, 2 nights ago. That was the last time I saw the star. What does it do?”

 

“You can go back to a set point in time,” he explains. “If you saved in this room two nights ago, then if something happens to you, you’ll end up there, at that moment again. Unless you SAVE over it.”

 

“Sounds like a video game...” you mutter, glancing at him. “Are you positive? I don’t want to take this risk if I might actually die -- a-and not come back.” You think back to the moment that you had fell -- and back to the blood that had stained your clothing. Had that happened at that time, too? Was that where the blood had come from?

 

Had you… died?

 

You didn’t know how to feel about that. Though, if you had died, and come back, then that didn’t explain how you had done so without SAVING. You didn’t remember much after you had jumped… 

 

“You will,” he affirms. “I saw you SAVE too. I’ve -- uh, actually been able to do it before,” he says, “Though I can’t do it now that you’re here. I guess you’re more  **determined** than I am.”

 

**“Determined?”**

 

“I don’t feel like getting into all of that,” he says dismissively. “You look like you have a plan -- so let’s hear it.” 

 

You sigh. You would question him more about that later, you guess. “I learned how to pick locks when I was a kid. One of the other foster kids I lived with showed me. We used to sneak out of the house all of the time.”

 

Flowey makes a strangled, frustrated sound. “Why didn’t you just do that from the beginning?!”

 

“I didn’t know if Toriel was going to be waiting for me to try something,” you remind him. “Clearly, she’s nuts. I thought I could convince her, but I was wrong.”

 

He sticks his tongue out at you, teasingly. “Told you!” And then he sputters when you hit him in the face with one of the hats in the chest. “H-Hey!”

 

You can’t help but snort.

 

“Hey, Flowey?” You find yourself saying.

 

He glares, “What?”

 

“I’m glad you’re here with me. I -- I don’t think I’d be able to handle all of this shit on my own.” 

 

He grows quiet, glancing at you as his expression softens. 

 

“Yeah, you’re not a  _ complete _ waste of my time, I guess.”

 

You hit him with the hat again, laughing as he releases an indignant squeal.

 

\--

 

The following day, you wake up early -- at least, it said it was early according to the clock. It was difficult to rely on time when you couldn’t see the sun. “She usually goes to where the humans fall down from around this time,” Flowey whispers to you. “If you want to get out of here, the time is now.” 

 

\-- and you  _ really _ wanted to get out of here.

 

You act quickly, going to the door and pushing the bent hair pins into the small keyhole, jiggling it around carefully. You apply pressure to the L shaped pin, feeling around until it sets, before you place the other pin inside as well, winding them until you hear a small click. You and Flowey both wait for a moment, both releasing breaths you hadn’t even realized that you had been holding when nothing happens. Toriel hadn’t heard anything -- that meant that she had possibly really left.

 

You open the door slowly, and quietly close it behind you as you make your way through the house. You go straight to the stairs leading to the basement. You’re careful the entire time -- crouching down and moving slowly as you walk. You didn’t hear anything in the house. All was still, but you still needed to be careful. You had seen them enough while walking to the dining room to know that this was probably the basement that Toriel had meant. She would always get testy when you passed by it, watching you carefully. “Is this it?” You ask and Flowey nods. 

 

“Yes, now  _ hurry,” _ he says, looking around anxiously. “We don’t know when she’ll get back.”

 

And you definitely didn’t want to see her reaction when she sees that you had broken your promise.

 

You rush down the stairs, no long worrying about being quiet as you run as fast as you can. It’s not long before you reach a large, ominous looking door. 

 

“We’re here,” Flowey breathes. “What are you waiting for?  _ Go.”  _

 

Your hands tremble as you reach for the door.

 

You didn’t know why you were hesitating so much. You didn’t want to stay here, and yet your thoughts go back to Toriel. Would she chase after you if she realized that you had gone? It was even more dangerous, out here too, wasn’t it?

 

Then, there was a knock at the door.

 

You freeze.

 

“knock, knock,” a deep, baritone voice drawls from beyond the door. 

 

Flowey has also gone rigid at your back. 

 

You’re not sure what possesses you to answer. It definitely wasn’t the smart thing to do. Maybe you were finally beginning to lose your mind. Though, you also couldn’t just unlock the door and open up if the monster at the door was right there. “Who’s there?” you whisper. You’re not even sure if the person knocking could hear you. 

 

Flowey looks at you as though you had grown a second head. “The hell are you doing?” He hisses, but you cover his mouth with your hand. 

 

“Adore,” the voice says.

 

You’re having a hard time wrapping your head around this. Was this -- person telling knock-knock jokes?

 

“Adore who?”

 

“a door is between me and you!” He says, before releasing a dark, drawing bark of laughter. It’s a terrible joke -- just awful. It was like the awful jokes that Toriel would tell to you -- or that you would tell to Abby. You can’t stop yourself from snorting and laughing. Yeah. It was probably the stress. You were losing it. You can feel Flowey hitting your shoulder, but you can’t make yourself stop. 

 

“Knock knock,” you say, the man behind the door chuckle with glee. 

 

“Who’s there?” 

 

“Doris.”

 

“doris who?”

 

“Doris locked, I’m so sorry!” 

 

The man laughs again. He laughs as though it’s the funniest joke he’s ever heard. He had a nice laugh, too -- it was one that made you want to laugh with him. 

 

“good one, doll,” the voice drawls. “don’t think I’ve heard your voice before. I think I’d remember someone who sounded so pretty. Ya seem pretty damn a _ \- peel- _ ing.” 

 

Even with the pun, you can tell that he’s fishing for information -- that much was clear. Toriel liked jokes like this, too. Is that whose voice he was used to hearing? You grimace. If this was a friend of Toriel’s, then you had probably made a huge mistake just now. “Hey,” you say, trying to keep the friendly tone that you had adopted earlier. “You can’t really tell if I’m pretty just from listening to my voice, you know. I could be pretty  _ monster _ -ous, you know.”

 

He laughs, “really, doll? I was thinking your voice had a more  _ human _ touch to it.”

 

This wasn’t very funny anymore.

 

“Why do you think that?”

 

“dunno,” the person behind the door says, “could have to do with the fact that another friend of mine said something about a human falling recently. even asked me to promise her something if I ever met that human.” 

 

You’d made a mistake. A huge one.

 

This monster knew Toriel.   
  
You wouldn’t be able to leave. You’d be trapped here forever -- and he was going to tell her --

 

“though, she didn’t tell me the human liked puns. gotta respect that, so I’ll do you a favor and not tell her about those little jokes of yours. you might wanna run back now, before I gotta fulfill that promise. it’s a pretty  _ killer one.” _

 

His threat was clear.

 

If you opened the door, you would die. 

 

Though, if you came back and Toriel caught you out of your room, you’d surely die, too. 

 

You were trapped. 

 

And there was nothing that you can do. 

 

Your body trembles hard, taking an unconscious step backwards -- and then another, and it’s not long until you’re scrambling, deeper and deeper into the ruins. You can hear Flowey calling your name faintly, but his voice isn’t at the forefront of your mind. No --  _ fear _ was. 

You had to get out.

 

But where would you go? There was  _ nowhere _ to go. 

 

_ Toriel is waiting for you. _

 

You don’t even notice tripping until you’re planted face first onto the stairs back into Toriel’s house. 

 

You hit your head, gasping as the pain leaves your ears ringing.

 

“Hey,” Flowey whispers to you, and this time you’re able to hear him.  He winds his leaves from around your neck, bringing them to your cheeks. He turns your head to look at him. “Breathe,” he says softly. His voice is an anchor, even if the cold that had seized your chest hadn’t dissipated. “Remember,” he encourages, “We have a trump card. You SAVED.”

 

You weren’t even sure if you trusted that would work, though he seems confident that it would. It was still a risk.

 

What if he was wrong?

 

What if you didn’t come back?

 

_ You would never get to apologize to Abby. _

 

“We’re going to figure this out,” he says firmly. He was taking the reins, working to keep you calm since it was clear that you were in no position to do so yourself. Your situation was precarious and one wrong step could lead to disaster. He would need to brave -- for the both of you. It wasn't something that he was good at. He was a crybaby -- a coward. He had always been, and it hadn't changed since he had become a flower. Still, you had stuck your neck out for him. You had kept Toriel from killing him. The least he could do was return the favor for you. Even if you died, the experience wouldn't be pleasant. He _knew_ that much -- intimately.  


 

He sucks in his breath. He was determined, though not nearly enough. Not as much as you could be -- but it would have to be enough for now. 

 

“First, we’re going to need to go back to that room -- and fast.”

 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone special made an appearance. Can you guess where?

**Author's Note:**

> We're in for a long journey, so I hope that you enjoy yourselves!
> 
> You can contact me at www.thebonedzone.tumblr.com if you have any questions or comments. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed the story! Feedback really keeps writers going!


End file.
